


Ms. Brightside

by solidburnreturned



Category: Trolls (2016), Trolls World Tour (2020)
Genre: Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangles, Oblivious Poppy, Pining, Slow Burn, can someone please help her, hopeless lesbian barb, implied.....you know, minor self-harm, parb, repressed barb, self-loathing barb, some small spoilers for world tour just a heads up!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solidburnreturned/pseuds/solidburnreturned
Summary: After her world tour, Barb starts developing feelings for Poppy that she doesn't know how to deal with.
Relationships: Poppy/Barb (Trolls)
Comments: 244
Kudos: 471





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you all asked for more parb fic.......and I am here to deliver with slow burn
> 
> warning!! there are some spoiler-y things from world tour referenced in this fic.
> 
> EDIT: so of course just a couple days after publishing this chapter I saw a tweet from the director of twt saying that rock trolls live in apartments made from giant speakers embedded in the volcano. I am embarrassed now with my own headcanon that I put into the fic lol but I’m just gonna leave it for now!! Please cut me some slack lol I am def not trying to give any kind of middle finger to canon
> 
> Anyway!! Enjoy!

Queen Barb couldn’t sleep. One could only toss and turn so much, and she felt like she was going to wear right through the lumpy mattress if she kept it up for much longer. Her thoughts were racing, and had been ever since the rather...disastrous-but-good-in-the-end events of her world tour. That was a way to put it. It had only been a month since, and there was still plenty of adjusting to do, but Barb felt like her adjustments were a bit more... _ complicated _ than most. 

With a grumble, Barb rolled over onto her stomach and peeked an eye open to check her banged-up alarm clock. Two in the morning. Barb let out an exhausted groan and turned away from the unpleasant sight. Rather than sleeping, all her brain could focus on was...pop. Well. Pop- _ py  _ to be specific. Just her name made a blush run across Barb’s face. She didn’t get it; why Poppy? Why the  _ Queen of Pop?  _ What dumb brain chemicals made the fantastic decision to make it so that whenever that pink troll smiled her big smile (with that little gap in her front teeth, couldn’t forget that), or let out a snort-filled giggle, or even looked in Barb’s direction, her body would start rebelling against her? Butterflies in her gut, sweaty palms, trembling hands, and that  _ stupid pink blush... _ She made herself sick. What kind of rock queen was she, turning into a puddle at the thought of just being around Poppy? Let alone thinking about when Poppy had taken her hand, holding it against her own, singing with her to a sea of trolls; all as if Barb hadn’t just tried to turn her into a rock zombie and turn the entire troll population against her. Poppy had just...forgiven her. And even offered to be friends after all of that.

Friends. The word made Barb’s heart skip and sink at the same time. 

Resigning herself to the reality that she would not be sleeping that night, Barb sat up and flicked her lamp on. The room was bathed in a warm yellow light and Debbie, hanging upside-down above Barb from the obsidian ceiling, let out an annoyed hiss. 

“Sorry, hairy baby…” Barb cooed in a hushed tone, reaching up to give the critter a scratch on the head. 

She angled the light away so that Debbie could return to her peaceful darkness. The less noise the bat made, the better; noise carried through the stone walls as if they were paper. After a quick moment to make sure no one had woken up, Barb scooted out of bed, adjusting her twisted up flannel pajamas as she crept over to one of the many amps that were stacked in the corner. One more glance over her shoulder. Couldn’t be too safe in damning situations like this. Coast clear, Barb gingerly popped the speaker out of the hollowed amp and pulled out a raggedy, worn box. She clutched it to her chest for a moment, shame creasing her features, before returning to her bed. 

Once settled, the box was opened. Barb stared at the contents like they’d committed some sort of heinous crime, when really, they were just papers. Pages and pages of her own writings; letters never sent, crinkled and crumpled poems that had escaped the fireplace, and songs that had yet to be sung. All focusing on the same subject: Love. For Queen Poppy. Barb could’ve gagged. Instead, as she thumbed through the papers, the blush over her face spread to the tips of her ears. Or...just to the one tip and the one scar, rather. She chewed the inside of her lip as she pulled out one of the first letters she ever wrote:

_ Dear Queen Poppy, _

_ I- _

Barb shuddered and shoved her face into the letter with a growl. God. She could barely stand herself. The letter was jerked back in front of her eyes after a few moments of mental preparation. 

_ Dear Queen Poppy, _

_ I want to apologize for my world tour. And for calling you popsqueak. I’m pretty sure you’re taller than me.  _

_ I don’t know if you remember what I told you about being queen. How it gets lonely? I didn’t really give you a chance to respond. Have you ever felt lonely like that? You have so many nice friends, and all the pop trolls seem to really like you. Now, ALL trolls like you. That’s pretty sick.  _

Barb rolled her eyes. No wonder she never sent this one...what a trainwreck.

_ Speaking of trolls that like you...I wanted to tell you something. I’m not sure if I’d be able to say it to your face, so I thought I’d send Debbie over with a letter.  _

_ I like you. A lot. I think you’re totally rad and beautiful-  _ Her already scratchy handwriting was becoming almost illegible on the tattered paper-  _ and funny and strong. You literally changed my life. I know you offered to be friends, which I’m psyched that you did, but...I wanted to offer to maybe be more than friends. I promise I would treat you- _

A huffed-out growl was choked out of Barb before she stuffed the letter back in the box. Stupid. She was so stupid. As if Poppy would ever want to be anything other than friends with her...A rock troll and a pop troll? Dating? Sure, she could see it, but...not with Poppy. Not with her. Poppy was so sweet...gentle, kind, cheerful, gorgeous...everything Barb wasn’t. The rock queen crumpled in on herself a bit, shoulders slouched and head bowed. She was angry. A gloomy, insecure woman that wasn’t in control of her emotions. And her skin; Barb sighed and ran her hands up her arms. The rough texture was nothing like Poppy’s smooth skin. Had she been disgusted when she’d held Barb’s hand? Most definitely. Barb could barely stand being in her own skin. Her hair wasn’t much better, either, with its almost straw-like feel to it. Just everything about her, she knew, made her undesirable to Poppy. The final nail in the coffin? Branch.

Barb’s fingernails dug into her shaking arms. She’d heard Poppy and Branch’s little make-up; it had hit her like a punch in the gut, hearing what they’d said to each other. Followed by a high five, which...didn’t make much sense to Barb, but she figured it was some sort of pop troll courting ritual. She wasn’t positive if Poppy was committed to Branch, but she knew who would be the obvious choice between the two of them. And it churned her stomach to think about it. 

This was a dream that she knew she had to get over. But it was easier said than done. 

Dragging her hands over her face, Barb sank back into her musty pillows. Debbie stared down at her with wide eyes, letting out a squeak of concern.

“You won’t rat on me, will you, Debbie?” Barb sighed. 

The bat blinked at her.

“Good girl.” Still, the guilt was too much for Barb.

She carefully stood up on the bed to reach Debbie, who chittered as Barb pulled her down from her roost. Barb shushed her and brought her over to the window, clamping her little feet onto the window sill outside. A small apology was mumbled to the oblivious bat, who honestly seemed relieved to be in the darkness outside. The window was shut as quietly as she could manage with the rusty old hinges before she flopped back onto the bed with an almost pained grunt. Rolling over to the edge of her mattress (she honestly hated how big that dumb bed was), Barb hoisted up one corner and grabbed at a forest-green cloth that was hidden underneath. 

Poppy’s cape. She’d left it in Barb’s throne room by accident during one of her visits. Barb hadn’t noticed until it was too late, and she’d most definitely meant to return it as soon as she could. Definitely. In fact, that was still her intention. When she’d found it in a heap next to her throne, one corner smoldering against one of the many candles lit around the area, she’d grabbed it with the plan to go toss it in the wash. On the way there, though, she’d made the mistake of letting her mind wander. Appreciating the feel of the soft fabric on her hands and arms...the cute image of Poppy running around with it billowing behind her. Then, the mistake grew into a sin: she stopped just short of the laundry chute, cape now clutched in her hands like it was about to be ripped away from her. On impulse, she brought it up to face and took in a deep breath through her nose. Poppy. It smelled just like her. Strawberries and spring. Barb’s grip turned white-knuckle. She smelled it again and closed her eyes. After another moment or two, she snapped back to reality enough to jerk the cape away from her face, nervously looking around to see if anyone had noticed her being a total weirdo. Nothing; no one was around. Barb made a beeline for her private quarters, cape hugged protectively against her chest. Her face burned and her head felt cloudy as she shut the door quietly behind her and tucked a chair up beneath the knob for good measure. She wanted to be alone for a good while.

Now, Barb’s face flushed with shame rather than desire at the memory. That was some freaky behavior, and not in a good way. She hated herself for it. Yet, here she was now, weeks later, with the cape draped over half her face and imagination running wild. The smell was fading, but it was still there...and she was going to hang onto it for as long as possible. To say it brought her confliction was an understatement; the disgust and hate she felt for herself each time the poor cape was dragged into the open to be used as some sort of serotonin machine for Barb nearly drowned her. On the other hand, she was desperate for any kind of release, emotional or otherwise. It was all too much to keep bottled up, and she wasn’t proud when everything came flooding out. She was just desperate for a connection that she’d never had. Something genuine. Real. 

One hand busy getting buried in the cape against her nose, the other clumsily fiddling with the drawstrings on her pajama pants, Barb did her best to silence the cruel voice in her head and replace it with the soothing sound of Poppy. 

\---

As the sun rose over the rock kingdom, a snoring Barb was jolted out of her sleep by the sound of scrabbling against her window. She ripped the cape off of her face groggily, sitting up and rubbing a hand over her bloodshot eyes. She glanced over at her clock. An impressive one hour of sleep. The rock queen groaned and ran her hands through her mohawk. Again, a clatter on her window grabbed her attention; it was Debbie, begging to be let back in and greet her favorite troll. Barb couldn’t help but smile as she slogged out of bed, opening the window and grabbing Debbie out of the air.

“Good morning, fuzzball,” she yawned, nuzzling Debbie against her cheek. “You sleep well?”

Debbie flapped her wings against Barb’s face excitedly.

“That makes one of us.” Barb plunked her pet on the bed and stretched her back in an effort to get a few pops and cracks out of it. She felt like a wreck.

The cape sitting on the bed did not help in the slightest. She grabbed it and shoved it back under the mattress, trying to ignore the nausea rising in her throat.  _ This is the last time, _ she told herself, knowing full well it absolutely would not be. 

A cold shower. That would help. Clear her mind and wake her up plenty. With another hefty stretch, she crossed the room to her private bathroom. It was probably the nicest room in her entire volcano fortress; the black walls were shiny rather than dull, the tub was practically a small pool, and the shelves on the walls next to the bath were full of different products. Bath bombs, salts, soaps, scrubs...any troll in need of some pampering’s dream come true. Had Barb been having a better opinion of herself, she may have lit the candles around the tub and fixed herself a relaxing, hot bath. Even the queen of rock liked a little self-care sometimes. But currently, she couldn’t even bear to look at herself in the mirror above the sink. The shower was turned on and Barb ditched her pajamas. One deep breath was the only preparation she allowed herself before jumping into the punishingly icy water with a yelp. The sleep was blasted out of her before long; now she was left with her thoughts once more as she washed her hair. 

Denial was not working for her. That was one thing to get straight. If she was going to get over these feelings, she had to tackle them head-on. The prospect was nothing short of terrifying for her (her shivering wasn’t just from the cold water hitting her body anymore), but it was necessary. She could do it. Sure she could. She’d brought the entire troll population to its knees in, what, less than a week? What’s asking the girl you’re crushing on out to dinner in comparison? 

Barb paused her scrubbing of her face, the smoky eye she’d slept in running dark rivers through her fingers. 

Who was she kidding. 

The water was switched off and Barb climbed out, teeth chattering in her skull as she grabbed a towel and vigorously dried off. Queen of hard rock, and here she was, freaking out like some teenager about to ask their crush out to a school dance. Pathetic. Might as well get the rejection over with so she could stop thinking about Poppy 24/7. She didn’t want it to get so obvious that people started talking...or, worse, rumors reaching Poppy. The thought made her swallow thickly as she wrapped the towel around herself; Poppy catching wind of her feelings and slowly distancing herself more and more until Barb had been cut out of her life completely. And then what? Back to square one: no friends, no connections, and no Poppy. She had to push the thought away before her anxiety rose to alarming levels. That wouldn’t happen. All she had to do was...woo Poppy. Easy. Totally. She knew how to woo. 

(She did not know how to woo.)

Barb trudged over to the mirror, taking a moment or two of grim silence before glancing up at herself. The raccoon eyes she was sporting were not exactly flattering. She grabbed her charcoal-colored eyeshadow from her little shelf over the sink and rubbed it on without much care. A plan. She needed a plan. Visiting Poppy was the first step. Daunting right off the bat. They’d hung out before...they could just. Hang out again. Maybe get some food. Poppy liked food. Barb liked food. Perfect. Then what...Barb groaned in almost anguish; her lack of experience was really killing her. Playing by ear was often her strong suit, but this...territory  _ this  _ unfamiliar was a stretch for her. 

She brushed away at her teeth, once again avoiding eye contact with herself. Much of this, she realized, would depend on Poppy. Would she say yes to getting food? What if she already ate? What if she didn’t want to hang out with Barb that day? What if she was busy with...Branch. Barb almost gagged, and it wasn’t from brushing her tongue. Her anxiety quickly turned to a boiling frustration as she finished her morning routine, hating even the  _ thought _ of  _ him.  _ One of her biggest obstacles...and she knew that she couldn’t challenge him outright. For one thing, he’d probably go running to Poppy, and she’d most definitely favor him and their years of friendship over her and Poppy’s measly little month. And another thing: he’d probably catch on that Barb was a potential romantic rival and go blab that to Poppy as well. Barb grit her teeth as she stormed out of her bathroom, slamming the door probably a bit too hard for how early it was in the morning. She snatched her usual outfit out of her closet and threw it on roughly, trying to resist the urge to smash one of her many guitars against the wall. No need to wake the whole kingdom up with a rage fit, but...she could barely contain the bitter anger she felt at her impossible situation. 

“You got any advice for me?” Barb huffed, crouching down in front of Debbie, who had not moved from the bed. “You wanna help me beat up a blue knucklehead?”

Debbie squeaked at her and Barb felt a bit of her anger dissolve into adoration. She picked Debbie up and gave her a quick snuggle before heading over to leave her bedroom, bat in her arms. 

“Wanna visit Pop Village today, Debbie?” A loud hiss. “Yeah, I feel that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, heads up for some twt spoilers!

Barb almost turned around several times on her ride over to Pop Village. Parked her critter bike once or twice to try and make her head stop spinning. It’s just lunch with Poppy...something she’d done plenty of times before in her Pod. They’d just be in public this time. That was fine. This was fine. Her plan to also ask her to a sleepover at her fortress was also fine. Absolutely. 

Just on the outskirts of the village, notes and melodies of pop drifting in the air from the residents, Barb parked one last time to bow her head between the handlebars and breathe good and deep. Wiped the sweat away from her brow and brushed her hands through her mohawk to make sure she looked halfway decent. Okay. Time to get on with it before she totally lost her nerve.

She zoomed over to Poppy’s pod (probably a bit faster than necessary) and parked below the mossy steps that lead to Poppy’s front door. The climb up felt as though she was scaling the mountains to the Classical Kingdom, especially with all of the eyes drilling into her back. As much as she didn’t enjoy it, she couldn’t blame the pop trolls...she knew she was a dark spot in their colorful, happy village...and in their general history. She just kept her head down and climbed. At the top, she awkwardly stood in front of Poppy’s front door, egging herself on to knock some sort of rock tune; Poppy always liked it when she did that. After a few more seconds she sucked in an apprehensive breath and knocked the beginning of  _ Barracuda  _ against the door with both hands. 

A soft gasp from inside made her ears perk before hurried footsteps reached the door. It swung open to reveal Queen Poppy, who greeted Barb with a delighted grin.

“Barb, hey! Great timing, I was just thinking about you!” 

“You w-?” Barb couldn’t finish before Poppy grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her inside and shutting the door behind both of them.

Poppy dragged Barb into her living room, swinging Barb onto the couch and standing before her with her hands on her hips. “Barb, I want you to be very honest with me.”

Barb felt like she’d stuffed her mouth and throat with cotton. “Uhhh…”

“I feel like you’re definitely the one person I can talk to about this who’ll actually give me what I  _ need.”  _ Poppy’s words were emphasized with shaking of clenched fists, as if this was something Poppy had really been struggling with desperately for a while.

Unable to speak, Barb just nodded hard enough to knock her eyeballs around in her head a bit. 

“...do you think I could pull off fishnets?”

Barb blinked. “Huh?”

“Please be honest!” Poppy manifested a pair of fishnet stockings from her hair, holding them out for Barb to inspect. “You wear them, like, all the time, sooo…! I figured you were the girl to ask! D’you think they’d look okay on me with a sort of mermaid-y outfit? ‘Sail Away Day’ is coming up soon and I wanna go all-out!”

The breath Barb had apparently been holding was let out in a gust, only for her to choke on it at the thought of Poppy in fishnets and seashells. Pull it together. Stop that. 

“Um, I-I totally think you would look good. In fishnets. Go for it.” Barb did her best to smile at Poppy, but it came out a little crooked.

“Oh, thanks, Barb!” Poppy threw her arms around the rock troll’s neck and gave her a hearty squeeze. “You’re a lifesaver!” 

Melting a bit in Poppy’s arms was always unavoidable, no matter how hard Barb tried to stay rigid. She’d really been the only troll to hug her in many, many years, and it felt very... _ nice.  _ Returning the gesture was still a challenge, however; Barb shakily just patted Poppy on the back and waited to be released. And desperately tried to not breathe in her perfume  _ too  _ much. 

“So!” Poppy let go of Barb with a gentle grab of her shoulders and plunked herself down on the couch next to her, criss-crossing her legs. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Rock Queen?”

Ah. Right. Barb cleared her throat and tried her best to keep eye contact with Poppy; those fuschia eyes were gorgeous, but very prying. She hated that she could feel a blush crawling up her face already. 

“I was wondering if you’d wanna get s-some lunch or something.” Smooth. Not a bad start.

“Oh, lunch does sound good right now,” Poppy hummed, patting her stomach. “There’s a really cute little sit-down cafe place that just popped up nearby! Wanna check it out?”

Before Barb could eagerly agree, she short-circuited a bit as Poppy started fiddling with her fishnets. She watched Poppy’s fingers with wide eyes as they looped through the scratchy fabric over her upper leg. Though her mouth was hanging open, she couldn’t manage any words. Poppy’s cheerful expression turned a bit concerned (but she kept her smile nonetheless). 

“You okay, B-?”

“Y-Yes!” Barb yelped, startling them both. “Uhm, yes, yeah, cafe. Sounds rad. Let’s do it- I-I mean, let’s-”

“You must be pretty hungry,” Poppy giggled, standing up from the couch and retracting her fingers. “Whenever Branch starts to stutter like that, it’s ‘cause his brain needs food!  _ Vamanos!”  _

Barb stood to follow Poppy, but the mention of Branch had put her in a totally different mindspace. That blue son-of-a-bug. She tried not to let her anger show too much in fear of scaring Poppy, but it wasn’t easy when her whole face was flushed hot pink. Being compared to him was not flattering in the least. She just kept her expression stoney as they walked out of her pod, Poppy chattering about this or that. 

As Poppy commented on all the scenery along their walk, she did find her gaze always coming to rest back on silent Barb. She looked a little grumpy, but that was normal for her. Poppy had grown to not mind. Of course, she wanted Barb to be happy; the memory of that beautiful rainbow mohawk and huge smile on Barb was one that she held fondly in her mind. It had made her heart sink a bit when she saw Barb without the new hair a few days later, but...she figured Barb just was similar to Branch in that way. Had some weight on that heart of rose gold that made it hard for her to keep her spirits up. All the more reason that Poppy wanted to work more and more at getting closer to Barb. After all, she was a  _ very  _ interesting troll. 

Poppy openly stared at Barb, who seemed determined to not look up from her feet as they walked along. She studied the rock troll’s funny features: her big, expressive eyes, that arrowhead nose, the chomp out of her ear. Poppy  _ really  _ wanted to ask about her ear. Sensitive subjects like that, however, needed a good time and place. Barb didn’t seem to be in a very vulnerable mood anyway. Those were far and few between for this troll, Poppy had grown to learn. That one little moment they’d had when Poppy was locked away...Barb letting just a drop of her genuine feelings spill in front of Poppy. It had been a turning point for Poppy when it came to her opinion of Barb. She was...lonely. She’d looked out over a sea of fellow rock trolls, screaming and cheering for her and her accomplishments, and lamented to Poppy about how she felt like she had no real connections with any of them. It broke Poppy’s heart to think about now...and made her that much more adamant to get Barb to realize that it wasn’t too late to make some wonderful, lifelong friendships. 

Barb had made a fair point during that interaction as well: they  _ were _ fairly similar trolls. Queens with good intentions and strong standards. They were just total opposites when it came to emotions, that’s all. Poppy was sure that if she kept prodding away at Barb’s hard outer shell, she’d reach that gooey center in no time.

The thought made Poppy’s smile grow wider and she reached out to grab onto a couple of Barb’s fingers. “Hey, when you were a baby, did your dad dress you up in cute little outfits?”

Barb almost jumped out of her skin at the unexpected touch and did a double take at Poppy’s out-of-the-blue question. “Did he  _ huh?” _

“Like, y’know! Dress you up like a little bat or-or a pumpkin!” Poppy aww’ed at the thought of a baby Barb celebrating Halloween with King Thrash. 

“Are you saying I look like a bat-pumpkin?” 

Poppy snorted and gave Barb a playful shove on the shoulder. “Oh, yeah, with all the orange you’re sporting!”

“I was kinda shaped like a pumpkin when I was a baby.” A small chuckle made its way out of Barb. “But...I don’t think he did much of that. Did your dad?”

“Oh, you best believe it! I was a flower, a ladybug, a piglet, a cupcake...I had a little costume for pretty much every day. I’d feel naked without one.”

Barb nodded, smile flattening out and eyes drifting back to the ground before she hastily pried her fingers from Poppy’s grip. She cracked her knuckles one by one, trying to distract herself. Poppy took the silence as another opportunity to stare at Barb, tracing over her hair line with her eyes.

“Can I feel your buzz?” Poppy asked, hand already raised up next to Barb’s head. 

Recovering from her flinch away from Poppy’s sudden movement, Barb didn’t quite get the chance to answer before Poppy was dragging her hand over her undercut. She loved it, and hated it, and wanted it to go on a bit longer than it did.

“Gosh, how are you not touching your head literally all the time?” Poppy sighed almost dreamily, arm swinging back down to her side. “It’s sensory heaven!”

Barb didn’t know how to answer, so she just shrugged instead. The anxiety brewing in her chest from all this touching was getting to be a lot to stuff down. “We almost at this cafe or wh-?”

“We’re here!” Poppy cheered, bouncing forward a bit.

It was a modest little shop, modeled to look like exactly what the sign hanging over the door said:  _ The Mossy Stump.  _ A few pop trolls were milling around outside, some with to-go bags, others just loitering around in the sun. Barb didn’t think it looked too bad; definitely not like most of the sugar shacks peppered throughout the village. Poppy grabbed her hand once again and pulled her along through the door, a little bell announcing their arrival. The shop owner, a burly giant troll with amber skin and green hair, perked up at the sight of the pink queen. 

“Queen Poppy!” He cheered, nudging himself through several seated trolls. His smile faltered a bit at the sight of his second new guest. “...and Queen Barb.”

“Hey, Big R! Came to finally check the place out!” Poppy happily leaned over to hug her host. “Got room for a party of two?”

“Yes, of course! Right over there.” He pointed to a high table for two by a bay window. “I’ll send someone over to take care of you both.”

The pair took their seats after thanking Big R, joined quickly by a perky waitress. She happily gave them their menus before scooting off to fetch them their waters. 

“See anything you like?” Poppy asked as she scanned the menu. 

Barb, peeking over her menu at Poppy, could feel her blush travel to both ears. “Uh...maybe…” 

“I think a veggie panini sounds like heaven right now.” 

Breaking her stare with a hint of shame, Barb glanced over the options listed before her. Seemed like a lot of sandwich and soup stuff. Not quite her forte, but...she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to eat with all the butterflies in her stomach anyway. Would probably be inappropriate to order a shot. Should’ve brought her flask.

“Barb?”

Barb jumped in her seat. “Huh?”

Poppy gave her a reassuring smile. “I said, I think you’d like the grilled cheese.”

Trying to put her eyes anywhere but on Poppy, Barb just nodded awkwardly and slouched in her seat. “Cool, cool.”

“You okay, Barb? You seem kinda...out of it.” Poppy reached over and tentatively pushed the menu down so she could at least see Barb’s wary eyes. “Wanna talk about anything?”

Absolutely not. “Uhh…”

“Okay, ladies!” The waitress piped up as she appeared and carefully set their waters on the table. “Made any decisions?”

Poppy sat back in her seat and gestured for Barb to go ahead. “C-Could I get the grilled cheese?”

“Of course, your highness!”

“Could you also burn it a little?"

The waitress paused her scribbling on her notepad and raised an eyebrow at Barb. “...burn it?”

“Juuuust a little.”

The almost frightened troll glanced over at Poppy, who just bounced her eyebrows as she waited for her own order to be taken. “Well...okay, one burnt grilled cheese...and for you, Queen Poppy?”

“Veggie panini, please! With extra feta!” 

This order seemed to relax the perplexed waitress and she nodded with approval before collecting the menus and heading back to the kitchen. Poppy looked back at Barb, propping her elbows up on the table to cradle her face in her hands. The rock troll, now having no protective barrier to hide behind, crossed her arms and stared out the window. 

“Burnt, huh?”

“...yeah.”

“Rock troll thing?”

“Could be.”

More silence. 

“So... _ is  _ there something you wanna talk about?” Poppy asked before sipping her water.

Barb dragged her eyes over to Poppy. “Not...particularly. I guess.” Wasn’t quite ready to propose a sleepover yet. 

Then, the realization hit Barb. She was being boring. It was obvious now; Poppy was doing her best to get conversation going, and here she was, offering nothing for the pop troll to latch on to. A total stick in the mud. She had to say something.  _ Anything.  _

“Y-You…”  _ Spit it out!  _ “You ever thought about getting a piercing?”  _ Oh my God. _

Poppy seemed to chew on the question for a bit while Barb chugged her water. “A piercing...I mean, I do like wearing earrings! But they’re just clip-on...I feel like it would hurt!”

“It doesn’t hurt that much.” 

“When did you get yours done?”

Barb tugged at her left earring. “Did this when I was thirteen. The other two when I was fifteen.”

Poppy gasped in awe, eyes practically lighting up. “You pierced your own ears? That’s so cool!”

A corner of Barb’s mouth jerked up into a half smile. “Eh, it’s not a big deal. Just kinda bloody, that’s all.”

Though her smile tightened a bit, Poppy still gave an encouraging nod. “Well, if I ever decide to make a crazy, impulsive decision, I’ll come to you!” 

They grinned at each other. Back to silence. Barb could feel her stupid palms start to sweat more the longer Poppy stared at her. She had to break the tension...but her head felt completely empty. Other than the things she absolutely could not say without ruining literally everything; definitely not her goal during a lunch not-date. 

Then, suddenly, she realized that Poppy wasn’t the only one staring at her. The trolls sitting at the table behind Poppy were eyeing Barb over; the trolls sitting parallel to them as well. When Barb glanced over her shoulder, sure enough, there were eyes on her. 

“...Busy spot, huh…” Barb mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck as she turned back to face Poppy. 

Having noticed Barb’s wandering eyes, a touch of sadness darkened Poppy’s mood. She tried to give the other trolls hard stares of warning, but they still seemed apprehensive of the rock queen. She didn’t see  _ why.  _ Sure, Barb had attempted world domination. We’ve all been there. Since then, Poppy knew that Barb had realized that her actions were wrong, and she wanted to right them by getting closer with Poppy. Barb wasn’t evil by a long shot. The sheepish-looking troll sitting across from her looked about as threatening as a scared cuddlepup. 

Poppy leaned over and took one of Barb’s hands into her own under the table. “Do you wanna get our food to go?”

Barb wanted to wrench her nasty, clammy hand out of Poppy’s angel touch, but she decided to allow it for the time being to avoid more conflict. “Uh...do you?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The sweetness in Poppy’s tone almost made Barb choke up. “If...you don’t mind-”

“Of course not.” She squeezed Barb’s hand before releasing it and calling the waitress over. “Excuse me! Could we have our food to go please?”

The waitress happily complied and went off to make the arrangements. Guilt was already rising in Barb’s throat; driving Poppy away from her people, just so they could hang out...Poppy didn’t deserve that. This was selfish.

Impulsively, Barb reached out to grab Poppy by the wrist. “A-Actually, we-”

“Your food, my queens!” The chipper waitress announced, plunking the bag on the table and startling Barb out of holding onto Poppy. “Have a good day!”

\---

Poppy and Barb sat together up high on a small branch, Poppy chewing the last bite of her panini while Barb was silently trying to persuade herself to take a third bite of her too-burnt grilled cheese. They’d eaten in silence, looking over a busier area of the village, content with one another’s company. Guilt still sat heavy in Barb’s chest, though Poppy seemed unbothered by the change in location; she kicked her legs without a care, playing I Spy with herself and occasionally catching glimpses of Barb out of the corner of her eye. 

“How’s your crispy grilled cheese?” She asked once her mouth was no longer full. 

Barb let out a passive grunt. “Crispy.”

“Not quite what you hoped for?”

Barb’s eyes shifted over to Poppy and silence hung for a moment longer than was normal. “Not really,” was her response, to maybe more than just her food.

“Well, no pressure to eat it if you don’t like it.” Poppy had to admit, it did look fairly. Unappetizing. 

With a huff, Barb leaned her face into her hand and tossed the sandwich over her shoulder to be lost in the brush below. Poppy chuckled and patted Barb’s back, letting her hand rest between her shoulders. Barb could feel her fingers curl in and out slowly, one finger poking through one of the many rips in her tank top. Her body didn’t know whether to tense or turn to mush, but she did suddenly feel feverish. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Poppy said quietly, looking down at the trolls milling about.

Barb licked her lips and tugged at her fishnets with her free hand, unable to rip her eyes away from Poppy. “...I-I...I dunno.” She murmured. “What’re  _ you _ thinking about?”

Poppy snickered a bit and moved her hand to Barb’s side. Her whole hand poked right through the large tear in Barb’s shirt along her ribs. “I’m thinking about how you need some new clothes!”

Barb nearly flew off the limb she was sitting on at the feeling of Poppy’s fingers on her skin. “HEY-! My clothes are fine!” 

“With all those holes?”

“I-It’s a look! Breathable!”

“Breathable...but you look kinda hot to me!” 

Total system failure on Barb’s end. Hot? She looks hot?  _ To Poppy?  _ Barb’s vision nearly became spotty. There was no way-

“I mean, look at you!” Poppy pressed the back of her hand to Barb’s cheek. “You’re totally flushed! I thought rock trolls could tolerate the heat better? Y’know, with the whole ‘living in an active volcano’ thing.”

Joking. Poppy had been joking. Of course. 

Barb shied away from Poppy’s hand, ears folding back indignantly. “I-I just...um…”

“Are you feeling okay?” Poppy’s joking tone dissolved into genuine worry. “You’ve been acting weird...all spacey and flushed, and you barely ate...are you sick?”

In a way, you could say that. “Um...I dunno.”

“Wanna go by Dr. Plum’s?” 

“I don’t think a spoonful of sugar is gonna help me much, Poppy.” Only after Barb said it did she realize how it could’ve been taken. 

“Look, you’re getting worse!” Poppy pointed to the blush that was creeping down Barb’s neck. “C’mon, you better go home. Some rest will do you good.” Poppy stood, gently pulling Barb up by her arm. 

“W-Wait!” Barb choked out before she could catch herself. “I was wondering if you’d…” The encouraging look glinting in Poppy’s eyes made Barb’s tongue twist for a moment. “I-If you’d...wanna have a, uh. A sleepover?”

The gasp that escaped Poppy nearly startled Barb off the branch for a second time. “Oh, a sleepover? That sounds so  _ fun!  _ Can we have it at my pod? I have sooo much fun party stuff we could use!”

Lost in the bliss of the yes to the sleepover, Barb just nodded dumbly with a smile over her face, forgetting her original plan to have Poppy come to Volcano Rock City. “Yeah, totally…”

“Awesome! We won’t tonight obviously, since you’re not feeling well, but let me know if you’re feeling better by tomorrow! We could plan it for the weekend!”

Two days away. Could she wait two days? A lot of regret could build in two days. 

“Sure, the weekend sounds good.” Welp.

“Oh, Barb, I’m so excited!” Poppy chirped, leading the way back down to the ground. “We can do each other’s makeup, play games like Truth or Dare, tell each other secrets...oooh, I can hardly wait!” 

Barb nodded along, though she knew she’d be avoiding the secret-telling part like the plague. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Just your handsome self!”

“WH-” Barb’s foot slid on a rotten section of bark, sending her tumbling to the branch below with a hard  _ thud  _ as the wood connected with her gut. 

“Oh, Barb! You okay?” Poppy hopped down, running over to Barb to help her to her feet, worried her grip would slip and send her tumbling the rest of the way to the ground. “You’re really out of it today, huh?”

“I guess so…” Barb wheezed, her knees jellied by Poppy’s compliment more so than by the pain in her torso. 

“I think you’ll definitely need some rest after that one,” Poppy chuckled sympathetically, keeping one arm securely around Barb’s shoulders for the rest of the trek down. 

\---

A long, airy sigh. Barb stared at the ceiling of her throne room, legs draped over one side of her chair, her head resting on the other; the events of the day playing over and over in her head. Was she overanalyzing? Probably. Gone over multiple scenarios in her mind of how the weekend would go? Absolutely. Dwelling on the ‘handsome’ comment way more than would be acceptable and normal? Another huge sigh, now accompanied by a lopsided grin. Guilty as charged. 

“How was your visit to Pop Village, Barb?” Riff asked, looking up from his exciting task of polishing his drumsticks. 

Barb gave a nonchalant shrug. “Was okay.”

“You’re grinning awful wide for just okay, Your Rockness.” Riff turned to look at her with a slightly cheeky grin. 

Barb did not turn to look at Riff. “You better watch it, or I’ll punch you in that big nose of yours.”

Riff seemed unbothered by the threat, going right back to polishing with the same grin on his face. “Make any new friends?”

“Who are you, my dad?”

“Hmm?” King Thrash perked up in his chair, looking over to Barb with a tired smile. “You say something, Barbara?”

“Nah dad, no worries.” Barb’s hard expression instantly became soft as she addressed her father, giving him a grin and horns. 

The elderly man went right back to his nap, and Barb went back to burning a hole in the ceiling with her gaze, the film reel of the day in her mind booting back up. All the touching, compliments, smiles...It made her heart flutter in her chest and a pink hue flood her face. Maybe Poppy  _ did  _ like her, just a little. 

Then that bitter voice came crawling back into her ear with the harsh truth:

_ She’s like that with everyone.  _

The smile slid off her face immediately. Poppy was a very touchy troll. It was a pop trait, after all. It was just a fact that Poppy liked to hug, hold hands, and practically flirt with total strangers. Hell, she even sent Barb a card asking to be best friends when she hadn’t even known of her existence for more than a few hours. Those touches meant nothing to Poppy. Did they mean the world to Barb? Of course. As did the “handsome” remark, though it was quickly sinking in that that was also most likely water off a duck’s back for Poppy. It was just Poppy being nice. Pitying Barb, even. Maybe even poking fun. Poppy liked to tease, and had plenty of bite behind that sweet smile. Not that she was mean, no...just liked to joke around. Maybe all of this was just something Poppy felt obligated to do. Or something that was just second nature. Had nothing at all to do with her feelings towards Barb. Nothing.

Disgust for herself started to twist her heart like an old, wet rag. How stupid and egotistical did she have to be to think that Poppy had an inkling of romantic feelings for her. Handsome...please. Barb had known all her life that she looked like an absolute freak. The other trolls in her kingdom had made her painfully aware that she was different. And that was putting it nicely. Her trembling hands tugged at the torn hem of her shirt. Stupid.  _ Stupid.  _ She felt  _ sorry  _ for Poppy for allowing the pink troll to touch her sandpaper skin. She’d let Poppy hold her hand, feel her dry undercut, rub her back, touch her cheek...all that and more. Could she be any more selfish? Putting Poppy through the ordeal of making contact with her like that just because it felt nice to her?  _ Multiple times?  _ Appalling. There was no way Poppy got any enjoyment out of that. No way that Poppy actually wanted to hold Barb’s hand, let alone do something like…Barb swallowed the lump in her throat. 

_ Kiss  _ her. 

The thought made her shudder with both revulsion and want. She was getting her hopes too high. Unrealistically high. At most, Poppy wanted to be friends. Friends did things like have sleepovers, hold hands and sneak their hands into holes in the other’s shirt. At least, that’s what Barb guessed what friends did. She wouldn’t actually know, ‘cause y’know. She was a giant loser of a queen. 

Another sigh was almost groaned out, this one definitely sounding more depressed than content. “I’m going to bed,” she grumbled, pushing herself up off her throne and dragging her feet on her way out of the room.

“Bed? It’s not even six-”

“Shut up and polish, drummer boy,” Barb snarled at Riff, who worriedly watched her stalk out of the room. 

Her stormy attitude quickly washed into something more forlorn as she trudged down the dark, gloomy hallway. A too familiar ache was starting to grow in her chest. It was going to be another bad night. 

Once she was safely in her room, the door shut behind her to assure her isolation, Barb stood like a statue. She could see the sun setting out her window; it was honestly breathtaking, all of the pinks and reds. But all it did was jerk tears into her eyes. Shuffling slowly over to the window, Barb shoved it open and cleared her throat. 

“Debbie!” she called, embarrassed by how her voice cracked.  _ “Debbie!” _

The winged puffball came fluttering over in an instant from wherever she’d been roosting, squeaking and making a beeline for Barb’s outstretched arms. Barb caught her and held her close to her chest, burying her face in Debbie’s soft fluff as she shut the window with a kick and flopped onto her big, giant, empty bed. 

“This sucks, Debbie,” Barb whispered, trying to hold back from crying like some baby. “This sucks so much.”

Debbie just chittered quietly, bugged-out eyes staring at Barb. Angst burned in the back of Barb’s throat like bile; She hated being alone in this bed. She wanted Poppy there next to her. Stroking her hair, comforting her, assuring her that she wasn’t going to leave Barb alone. But she  _ was  _ alone. There was no Poppy in her bed, and there never would be. No comfort, no kisses, no cuddles that she was almost too ashamed to even admit to herself that she wanted...and definitely none of the other things that she desired, deep down in the most repressed and bottled-up sections of her mind. She couldn’t even have any of that with a fellow rock troll, and she was fantasizing about getting with the  _ Queen of Pop?  _ Foolhardy was an understatement. The mental bombardment of her own loneliness was finally too much for her and she broke down into heaving sobs, her dark makeup spilling down her face and onto her already stained sheets. 

Then she remembered. Her eyes snapped open. The sleepover.  _ Why  _ had she even  _ bothered  _ to ask. It wasn’t going to be anything but a disaster. Probably add fuel to her gross, thirst-filled fire. She should cancel. Write to Poppy and tell her that yes, she was feeling sick, and was very contagious. Should avoid contact with her at all costs for probably the next sixty to eighty years. At the very, very least.

She grabbed a fistful of her own hair and pulled it as hard as she could, gritting her teeth at the pain. Absolute moron. Her behavior was inexcusable, and she knew it was only going to get worse if she kept up this dumb idea that Poppy was somehow going to look through her ugly, abhorent exterior into...whatever nastiness also resided within. There really was no winning there. 

“Debbie,” Barb sniffed, rolling onto her back and holding the bat up above her tear-stained face. “...tell me what I should do. Please?”

Of course, Debbie only stared back unblinkingly. Barb gave her a defeated little squeeze before scooting over to her pillow, pulling the covers up over her and Debbie. Sleeping on it was all she could really do at this point. With a bit more wallowing for good measure. 

She prayed to whatever rock god above that she would catch the flu in her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAAA i hope this was good,, thanks for reading my silly parb indulgence!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning again for some mild twt spoilers and some drinking in this chapter!

First impressions were important to Poppy, especially when it came to sleepovers. Sharing your house with someone for a whole night was a big step in a relationship. It carried a lot of trust, teamwork, and social intimacy.  _ Especially  _ with one-on-one sleepovers. Luckily, Poppy was very well experienced in the art of slumber parties, and knew just how to make Barb feel relaxed and comfortable during her stay. Ever since she got Barb’s letter (delivered by adorable Debbie) the day after their lunch date letting Poppy know that she was feeling much better and looking forward to their sleepover, Poppy had been practically giddy with excitement. She’d immediately created a scrapbook card (sans glitter) telling Barb how pumped she was for her to sleep over. Even gave her a nice little list of things to bring so she wouldn’t forget: cozy pajamas, a sleeping bag and pillow, her toothbrush, and anything else she’d like to bring for them to do. Told her to be at her pod at seven in the evening, sharp. 

Now here she was, seven only about ten minutes away, tittering around in her pod, making sure that everything would be perfect for her guest. This was their first big hangout- Previous to this, it had really only been strolls around the village or city, and more diplomatic meetings with the occasional bite to eat thrown in. This was serious. They were going to  _ bond.  _

Mentally, Poppy went over her checklist one last time: pizza in the oven, getting a little crispy just for Barb: check. Cozy, blue knit pajama shorts and crop top: check. Snacks in the pantry: check. Fun drinks to help the party mood: check. A series of personal questions and stories woven into games to help them get to know each other on a besties level:  _ check.  _

Poppy did a little celebratory dance to herself in her living room, hands flapping and feet stomping at a mile a minute at the thought of finally  _ really  _ getting to know Barb and vice versa. Barb was a troll of mystery and Poppy wanted to leave no stone unturned. This was going to be absolutely fantastic. She was determined to alleviate Barb of some of that loneliness she had on her shoulders. With hugs. And maybe some drinks. 

Just as her wing-dingle clock chirped to announce the arrival of the next hour, a knock to the tune of  _ You Really Got Me  _ was hammered on her door. 

Poppy practically leaped to the door to swing it open. “Barb, hey!”

Sleeping bag slung over her shoulder with a small overnight knapsack, Barb strained out a smile and a wave as her eyes looked Poppy up and down. “Hey, s’up?”

“You’re what’s up!” Poppy stepped aside to allow Barb to shuffle in. “I hope you’re ready for the night of your life!”

Barb seemed unsure how to reply, so she just stood awkwardly next to the couch, awaiting direction from Poppy. Who was happy to provide.

“Go get changed into your pajamas, I’ll get dinner and drinks all set up! What’s your poison?”

A moment of contemplation. “You got rum?”

Poppy nodded excitedly. “Want a Dark and Stormy, Your Highness?”

That funny blush was back on Barb’s face; Poppy made a note to turn the heat down a couple notches. “Yeah, please.”

Poppy gave her a thumbs up and skipped away into the kitchen. 

“Uh, where’s your-?”

“Second door on the left!” Poppy called. 

Once she heard the door to her bathroom click shut, Poppy went to get all the food ready. The darkened pizza was carefully removed from the oven and slid onto a cutting board to cool off while Poppy fixed their drinks. As she mixed the rum and ginger beer, she went over her possible-and-flexible game plan for the night: eat and have drinks with Barb while hitting her with a few icebreakers. Play a low-effort game at the same time. Next, fun makeovers, before they get to the point where they’ll just make each other look like sloppy clowns. After that, some classic party games like Twister and Blind Man’s Buff. By that time, it should be close to ten at night, which was the golden hour for sleepover heart-to-hearts. They’d retire to Poppy’s room around then and let the bonding begin. Poppy could hardly contain her elation at the thought of being besties with the Queen of Hard Rock. She loved some good irony in a relationship.

Poppy turned, a Shirly Temple in one hand and a Dark and Stormy in the other, just in time to see a pajama-clad Barb sheepishly wander into the kitchen. “OH, Barb! You look so  _ cute  _ and  _ cozy!” _

Barb glanced down at her black and red plaid pajama pants and torn up black tank top. “Uh...thanks, I think.”

“Here you goooo,” Poppy sang, handing Barb her drink. “You hungry? I made the pizza the way you like it!”

The surprised delight Poppy saw light up Barb’s face made her heart jump with joy. “Oh, sick, thanks!” 

The two queens split the pizza between themselves and moved to the living room to get comfortable on the couch. Poppy sipped her drink and watched, amused, as Barb made a sort of pizza sandwich and tore into it like a dog.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” she mumbled between chewing. “You coulda left the thing in the oven for an hour and still I would’ve eaten it.”

“Why haven’t you eaten? Not even breakfast?” Poppy gasped. 

Barb shrugged and shoved the last of the two slices in her mouth. “Oh, y’know-” she paused to chew for a moment, eyes rolling. “...queen stuff.”

Poppy nodded in understanding; she’d definitely been there. “So! You wannaaaa play a game?”

“Like what?”

Poppy rolled her eyes back and forth as she took a thoughtful bite of pizza. “Hmm...two truths and a lie? I bet it would be a fun challenge since we don’t know each other too well yet!”

Barb glanced over at Poppy as she licked sauce from her fingers. “Sure. Pink queens first.”

Poppy’s cheeks turned a bit darker as she let out a snicker. “We’re both pink!”

“You, you first!”

“Okay, okay!” Poppy laughed. “Uhh...I became queen when I was twenty-two, my favorite color is magenta, and my personal record for longest time spent partying is eight straight days.”

Barb rattled her options around in her head as she finished off her drink. Eight days...Poppy could party for more than eight days. But being crowned as queen at 22? A little late, wasn’t that? Barb shot a suspicious look at Poppy, who just smugly nibbled on a piece of crust. Eyes half lidded, chin lowered slightly, bangs a bit more in her eyes than usual...Sweat started to bead on Barb’s brow.

“Hang on,” Poppy suddenly said, leaning forward to drag her thumb over the corner of Barb’s mouth. “Got a little snack for later on there!” She laughed, gesturing to the spot of sauce on her finger before licking it away without a care.

Barb sat, heart rate suddenly through the roof, stunned and completely rattled out of her thoughts. She only seemed capable of staring at Poppy and turning several different shades of pink. Only when Poppy gave her a little impatient nudge on the leg with her foot did Barb come to her senses. 

“...I-I think you could party longer than eight days,” finally tumbled out of her mouth after another moment or so of silence.

Poppy immediately made a buzzer noise, jamming her thumb towards the floor. “Wrong! My favorite color is blue!”

_ Blue like Branch?  _ Barb recoiled a bit; hopefully not enough that Poppy noticed. 

“I’m flattered you think I could party longer than that, though. Maybe I’ll go for nine next time!” When Barb said nothing, Poppy stirred her drink, her beaming smile shrinking just a hair. “Well...your turn!”

“Oh, right.” She shoved the last slice of pizza in her mouth before sitting back to try and think through her brain fog. 

Probably shouldn’t make it too hard on Poppy. Like she said, they didn’t know each other too personally. Barb wasn’t sure if she was really ready for that anyway. Pretty much  _ no one  _ knew her on a very deep level...other than her dad, but she doubted he really remembered any of those details anymore. Poppy, on the other hand, most definitely would remember. Was she spacey and happy-go-lucky? Absolutely, but that didn’t mean she was dumb. Maybe she  _ shouldn’t  _ make this so easy for Poppy.

“Alright, uh...my favorite food is chili...I, uh...I do charcoal drawings sometimes-”

_ “You do?”  _

“Nuh-uh, I’m not telling, that’s the point!” Barb wagged a finger in Poppy’s indignant face. “...and...I’m really good at magma ball.”

Poppy weighed her options for a moment before looking confused. “What’s magma ball?”

“Where you throw round pieces of magma at each other. If you get hit, you’re out.”

“Like glitterball!” Poppy said. “Except painful!”

“Sure.”

A single beat of quiet before Poppy made her decision. “I think you might not be so good at magma ball.” Was she hoping that Barb was a secret artist? Maybe.

Barb raised an eyebrow at Poppy, swirling the ice in her otherwise empty glass. “Final answer?”

“Final answer!” 

The rock troll shrugged in defeat. “Yeah, you’re right, I suck at magma ball. Always got picked last to be on someone’s team.”

A noise of sympathy escaped Poppy. “Aw...that’s not very nice.”

“I sucked!” Barb exclaimed matter-of-factly.

Still, Poppy looked unsure, popping the cherry from her drink in her mouth. “You’re the queen, shouldn’t they be nice to you?”

Barb crunched on her ice. “I haven’t played since my coronation.” 

“Okayyy, you were the princess... _ shouldn’t they be nice to you?”  _

Another shrug, now accompanied by an eye roll. “It’s fine, it was over ten years ago. It’s your turn.”

Poppy could tell that either Barb was losing interest or she’d hit a sore spot for the rock troll. Barb was staring at her empty glass, avoiding eye contact with her hostess. Chili and charcoal drawings...Poppy squinted at Barb as she committed these new details to memory.

“Want another?” Poppy asked, gesturing to Barb’s glass. 

\---

A few more drinks in, the game was forgotten, and both trolls had just started chatting about this or that. Especially about Barb’s charcoal drawings, which Poppy had learned that Barb did when she couldn’t sleep. Apparently, Debbie was her favorite muse, but that didn’t stop her from drawing things like figures and still-lifes from time to time. While she recounted a particularly fond sketch of Debbie, Barb slouched in one corner of the pink couch, leg slung over the armrest and drink sat on her stomach. Poppy had taken over the rest of the cushion space, laid out on her stomach with one arm dangling off the side to grab her fruity cocktail off the floor when she pleased. Poppy had almost completely forgotten her original plan until Barb apparently got distracted and made an offhand comment:

“So, like, do you wear eyeshadow? Or is that just from partying all night...no offense-”

“Oh!” Her left arm scrambled to push her torso up off the couch. “You wanna do makeovers?”

“...no. I don’t wear makeup.”

“Uh, liar…” Poppy reached up and rubbed a hand over Barb’s closed eye before she could flinch away, presenting her with the dark eyeshadow that was now painting her fingers. 

“That’s not  _ makeup,  _ it’s a  _ statement.”  _ Barb wiped the smokey finger streaks off of her rosy cheek. “Even my dad wears this stuff.”

Poppy let out a snort at the thought of her dad wearing eyeshadow regularly. “I like your dad. He’s sweet.”

“Mm.” Barb took a couple chugs from her spiced cider, gaze drifting away from Poppy. 

The pink troll scooted closer to Barb before flopping back down on her back, thick hair splayed over Barb’s lap. “I’m kinda surprised! I’d think the King of Rock would be more…” Poppy fake-snarled and pretended her fingers were claws. “Y’know?”

Had she been sober, Barb probably would have been panicking over both the conversation at hand and having Poppy’s soft locks basically burying her lower body. Instead, she allowed her mind to wander and her free hand to ever-so-carefully twirl a few strands around her index finger. She was glad that she could blame her heavy blush on all the drinks.

“He’s softened up a lot, for sure…” Barb dragged her thumb over the silky hairs she had in her grasp. “Wasn’t always...the way he is now. Could be a real brute sometimes.”

“Really?” Concern was evident in Poppy’s voice. “He wasn’t mean to you, was he?”

Barb had twirled a couple more fingers into Poppy’s hair. “Eh...he wasn’t _ mean,  _ I guess. Just wanted me to be a good queen. And that requires a lot of discipline and tough love.”

“I think you’re a good queen.” Poppy’s arm moved away from resting on her stomach to off the couch so she could softly the back of her hand over Barb’s shin. “We’re both good queens.”

Barb’s breath almost caught in her throat at Poppy’s touch, the compliment going in one ear and out the other. Were they...cuddling? Kinda? The alarms in Barb’s head went off for just a moment before she doused them with the last of her drink. As she leaned over to place the glass on the coffee table, some of Poppy’s hair brushed against her face. It was probably the softest thing she’d ever felt, and she found herself unable to pull herself away. Even dared to try and catch the smallest hint of shampoo smell. More strawberries...just like her cape. Under Barb’s mattress back at home. Jeez.

Though Barb didn’t seem aware of it, Poppy was watching her with lazy eyes. What a funny troll. Very expressive, much more than any pop troll she’d ever met. She figured it was those big eyes...though her pointy ears were pretty twitchy too. There was definitely a lot going on in that head of hers; Barb was not very good at hiding her emotions at all. Maybe she wanted to tell Poppy a secret? Or was trying to remember a funny joke to tell her? Though, her expression looked a little too serious for joke telling. It definitely was a secret. A good one at that. Just wasn’t  _ quite  _ ready to spill it yet. Poppy glanced over at the clock; almost ten. Magic bonding hour. Looked like a party game was going to be their time killer until then.

Poppy sat up abruptly, almost bonking her forehead on Barb’s chin in the process. “Wanna play a new game?”

Looking like she’d been wrenched out of a pretty heavy daydream, Barb blinked rapidly before simply nodding without quite registering what Poppy had said. From her hair Poppy presented one of her all-time favorite party games: Twister. Barb looked like Poppy had pulled out a weapon of mass destruction. 

“Have you ever played before?” Poppy asked sweetly, standing up and unraveling the mat onto the pod’s fluffy floor. “It’s really easy if you haven’t!”

“Uh...I haven’t, but...I think I know how.”

“Great! Well, get on over here, girl!” Poppy extended both hands and wiggled her fingers in a beckoning motion. “You can go first!”

This felt like a bad idea. Against her better judgement, Barb staggered to her feet and rounded the coffee table to stand on the edge of the mat. She nervously cracked her knuckles as Poppy spun the dial. 

“Left foot, red!”

Barb obliged stiffly. The dial was spun again. 

“Right foot, green,” Poppy chirped, moving to stand parallel to Barb.

“Right hand, yellow.” Barb followed her instructions, a bit clumsily now that she wasn’t upright. That last drink was starting to hit. 

They went back and forth like this for a while, Poppy switching from spinning the dial with her hand to with her hair as all four of her appendages became preoccupied. Though both trolls were plenty flexible, Barb seemed to have the advantage due to her lankiness, able to reach over and around Poppy without too much strain. What was really challenging was not toppling over every time Poppy’s hair brushed over her face, or when their bodies crossed over one another. Even the slightest contact threatened Barb’s concentration. Her mind was just too abuzz with thoughts and feelings that were getting increasingly difficult to keep bottled up. 

“Ahhh…! I see you sweatinggg!” Poppy teased, watching Barb attempt to reach her right hand over her belly to a green circle without moving her other three limbs away from their colorful prisons (or brushing even a millimeter of her skin against Poppy’s). “Don’t fallll...oops!” Poppy straightened her legs, giving Barb’s arm and chest a bump with her stomach.

“H-Hey-! Don’t cheat!” Barb barked, a bit more gruffness in her voice than intended. 

Luckily, Poppy seemed too busy laughing at Barb’s startled face to notice. She planted her hand firmly in the green spot, watching the dial spin with dread. 

“Left hand…” Poppy delicately raised said hand off of a blue circle, “...yellow!” 

To say Barb was not expecting her face to be the center of a Poppy sandwich was an understatement. Her nose was squashed into Poppy’s lower chest as Poppy’s arm reached over her neck, putting her in the weirdest headlock she’d ever experienced in her life. Holy God. Barb didn’t know where to rest her eyes, and dared not open her mouth. Hell. This was hell. Immediately, she started to wriggle, the alcohol in her system definitely not at the level it needed to be at for her to be okay with this position. 

“Hey, you can’t tell me not to cheat and then start getting squirmy!” Poppy struggled to keep her stance as Barb’s panic escalated, pulling against her grip like an animal with its head caught in a trap. 

“Would you just-!” Forgetting the game completely, Barb threw herself back away from Poppy, blush having now spread all the way down to her chest. 

“I win!” Poppy cheered proudly, collapsing to the floor in relief. “Good game! Best two out of th-?”

“I’ll be right back,” Barb coughed, scrambling to her feet and practically running for her bathroom. 

Poppy watched her go with raised eyebrows. Once the door was slammed shut behind the flustered troll, Poppy curiously smelled her under arm. Hm. Maybe she didn’t blame Barb for wanting some space.

In the bathroom, Barb had thrown the tub tap on and promptly stuck her face underneath it, letting the freezing water run over her completely overheated skin as she nearly panted. That was a disaster. She knew she should’ve asked for a different game; personal space seemed to be something of a myth in the pop kingdom. Was it lenient in the rock kingdom? Sure. With the troll you had a crush on? Maybe. In Barb’s case? The line should have been drawn when she idiotically started playing with Poppy’s hair. Or when she walked through the door. That sounded about right. 

Barb turned over, the water soaking her mohawk and running down her neck. Part of her wanted to drown in the tub. It would be easier than going out to face Poppy after that fiasco. It was only going to get worse, she knew. Maybe she could crawl out the window and run off back home. Poppy wouldn’t be too upset, right?

A trick question. Any amount of upset was too much when it came to Poppy. Just her being in here was probably upsetting Poppy. Selfish...she was so selfish. 

Barb turned the water off and held her face in her hands for a moment, shivering from the chill that now gripped her. Pull it together. Don’t start losing it at Poppy’s. She’d never invite Barb over again. Which was...bad. Right? For who, exactly?

Barb jumped when Poppy knocked on the door before coming right in without waiting for a response. “You okay, Barb?”

“I-I’m fine! I just…” Think quick, giving your head a douse at a sleepover was probably  _ not  _ normal behavior. “I...I don’t like to sleep in my smokey eye. Needed to wash it off.”

Poppy blinked at Barb, who held her breath anxiously. “Oh, well, you could’ve used the sink, silly!” She laughed, handing barb a towel from the wall rack. 

Barb took it gratefully, rubbing it over her face and hair probably a bit rougher than necessary. “Yeah, I...Sorry, not quite thinking straight with all the drinks.”

“You’re good,” Poppy said with a  _ pfft,  _ plunking herself down next to Barb by the tub _.  _ “I’m pretty tipsy too. I was just worried you were getting sick or something.” Barb shook her head and handed Poppy back the towel, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. “Well...should we head to bed, then?”

“Sure,” Barb mumbled, barely shoving back the urge to smack her forehead against the tub.

\---

Tucked up under her fluffy pink comforter, Poppy peered down at Barb from her bed. The red haired troll had her sleeping bag zipped all the way up to her nose, her pink eyes giving an illusion of glowing in the low light as they looked everywhere but at Poppy. Poppy grinned down at her. Secrets time.

“Psst.” 

Barb’s ears drooped down a bit as she glanced up at Poppy.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Poppy giggled. 

Even in the dark, Poppy could see the blood rush to Barb’s face. “...nothing.”

A likely story. “C’mon, let’s have girl talk! Tell me all the gossip going on in your kingdom!”

A combination of annoyance and sadness flashed over Barb’s face. “Why would I know any of that?”

“Duh, cuz your friends give you all the deets!” 

Now sadness seemed to dominate Barb’s expression. “I don’t have friends like you do.”

Poppy pulled one of her overstuffed pillows against her body in a tight hug. “No, not all the trolls in your city, just your main group! If I got gossip from every troll in the village, I think I’d-”

“I don’t  _ have  _ friends, Poppy.”

The hurt in Barb’s voice cut Poppy short. Comfort mode engaged immediately. “That’s not true! I’m your friend! A-And Riff, he’s always hanging out with you.”

“He doesn’t ‘hang out’ with me, it’s his  _ job  _ to help me out. That’s it. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

“Have you ever asked him?”

“I don’t need to ask him.” Barb shifted in her sleeping bag so that she was laying on her side, facing away from Poppy. “It’s fine, I don’t care if I don’t have friends.”

“Uh, not true. Like I said, I’m your friend!”

“You barely know me,” Barb grumbled. 

“So let’s get to know each other!” The silence from Barb was taken as a step in the right direction. “I’ll go first, I’ll tell you something about me.” Poppy paused for a moment, apprehension suddenly squirming a bit in her chest. “Um...this is actually something pretty personal.”

After a brief moment of processing, Barb rolled over just enough to have one eye focused on Poppy.

“...A little over a year ago, I was dating this guy named Creek. He was really…’zen.’ Liked yoga and talking to random trolls about their chakras.” 

Barb wrinkled her nose. Poppy would’ve laughed if she wasn’t nearly choking up. 

“He…” A quick throat-clear. “During the whole thing with the Bergens, he decided to sell out the entire village to Chef, the one that wanted to use us all for Trollstice dinner. Just to save his own skin.” Poppy tried to blink her tears away and swallow the lump in her throat. “When he told me and the others what he did...he was smiling. Said that I would at least get to die with a clear conscience. And then he did this thing we’d do, this couple thing, where we’d kinda. Boop each other’s noses.” A single tear rolled down Poppy’s cheek and she hugged her pillow closer. “It’s silly, but...I haven’t been able to do that since. With anyone. He really, really broke my heart.”

Barb had slowly turned to face Poppy during her story, a mixture of sympathy and rage stewing inside of her. “Where’s this dude now?” She almost growled. 

“Gone. Like,  _ gone  _ gone.”

Good. Barb was a bit disappointed that she couldn’t put him in the ground herself. She’d never seen Poppy cry...she hated it. Wanted to do everything she could to make it stop. Everything and anything-

“C-Can I have a hug?” Poppy whimpered, holding her trembling arms out. “Please?”

Oh. That came back at her quicker than she thought it would. But the sight of Poppy with her arms outstretched, eyes teary and pleading, with that watery frown on her face...Barb’s heartstrings weren’t just tugged, they were given a hearty yank. Wordlessly, Barb unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled out. Just a quick one. For Poppy, not her. She couldn’t just leave the sweetest girl on earth hanging like this, could she? There really was no other choice other than to hug Poppy. Really, she was between a rock and a soft place. And that soft place was where she nestled herself; right into Poppy’s awaiting arms. Poppy squeezed her tight and Barb squeezed right back, rubbing little circles between her shoulders like Poppy had done to her a few days before. 

“I-I’m sorry you went through that,” Barb whispered. “That sucks.”

Poppy busted out a laugh, followed by a heavy sniffle. “Yeah, it did suck. But sucky stuff happens sometimes, right? Life isn’t always cupcakes and rainbows.”

Barb wholeheartedly agreed. She gave Poppy a few more moments, trying desperately to not make too much skin-to-skin contact, before gently pulling away and sitting back on her heels. 

The hug had helped Poppy considerably; for one, hugs were just nice, but the fact that Barb was comfortable enough to allow the hug for as long as she did made her throat now tighten with joy. She remembered that it had taken Branch a  _ while  _ to get to that point, even after getting his true colors back. 

“You can tell  _ me _ something now, if you want,” Poppy murmured hopefully. 

Oh, right. That’s kind of how this all worked, huh. Barb bit her lip and started cracking her knuckles.

Poppy reached out a hand gingerly and rested them on Barb’s now frozen hands, catching Barb’s eyes with her own. “Yuck,” she whispered earnestly.

“Oh, sorry.” Barb fiddled with the drawstrings on her pants instead, trying desperately to think of some story to tell before the awkwardness consumed her completely. “Uhh...umm…”

“...can I ask what happened to your ear?”

The gloom that came over Barb’s face and the tightness that seized her muscles instantly made Poppy wince. “No. Sorry.”

“No need to be! I-I was just curious, no pressure to tell me.” Oops. Still too early for that one. 

“Uh...I was crowned queen when I was barely eighteen.”

Poppy’s ears perked right up.

Barb stared at her hands, tugging at her wristbands. “...Dad had kinda started...deteriorating...so he wanted to have my coronation before he got worse. I was kinda expecting to be crowned around my twenties, like you were, but…” Barb shrugged and pressed her lips together. “Anyway. Long story short, pretty much no one showed up.” Barb breathed out a long sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. “Dad was pretty upset, and I was... _ really  _ upset. But. He tried to make the most of it. Turned it into a father-daughter deal. Which was great, but didn’t really change the fact that no one respected me as their queen for a good few years. I was still pretty much a kid to a lot of them. Wasn’t well liked, wasn’t well known as anything good...I think a lot of them resented me for replacing my dad. He was an  _ awesome  _ king.”

“...you’re an awesome queen!”

Slowly, Barb met Poppy’s eyes and furrowed her brow. “...even though I almost destroyed all music?” Her tone attempted to be joking, but Poppy could see the heartfelt regret in Barb’s eyes. 

Poppy offered a tender smile and extended her hand, hoping that Barb wouldn’t shy away. To her relief, Barb just closed her eyes and allowed Poppy to softly brush her fingers over her undercut and cheek.

“I know you’re not bad, Barb. I know you just wanted what you thought was best for everyone.” Her finger ran along Barb’s jaw as she pulled away; could’ve sworn she saw the rock troll lean in just a bit, but it was impossible to tell in the low light. “You deserve to be happy and respected. You shouldn’t have to break your back or-or go on a pillage just for the approval of others. They should like you for  _ you.” _

Barb couldn’t hold back her scoff.  _ She  _ didn’t even like her for her. 

“I really care about you. I want you to know that there’s someone out here who genuinely cares about you, okay?” 

Barb took a deep breath and shifted about. “‘Kay.”

“...Okay.” Silence other than steady breathing from both of them. “...I’m sorry that happened to you, by the way.”

Breaking out of her invisible constraints, Barb shrugged and went to settle herself back into her sleeping bag. “It was forever ago. I’m over it.”

“Still.” Poppy started making herself comfortable, feeling the night bringing itself to a natural end. “Sleepy?”

Barb nodded and zipped up her sleeping bag good and tight. 

“Me too. Sweet dreams!”

Barb bounced her eyebrows and tried not to let too much sarcasm come through in her smile. “Yeah, you too, Poppy.”

“You don’t snore, do you?”

“Not at all,” Barb lied.

“Good.” The pink troll smiled right back before rolling over to her opposite side. “Goodnight, Barb.”

A long, low sigh. “Goodnight.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, warning for mild twt spoilers! theres also some mild self harm near the end of the chapter.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

_ “Barb,” Poppy sighed, running her hands through the rocker’s soft mohawk. “You look so handsome tonight.” _

_ Holding Poppy close against her as they both laid in the pop queen’s bed, Poppy on top of Barb, Barb smiled and enjoyed the gentle touch. “Nothing compared to how gorgeous you are every day, babe.” _

_ Poppy giggled that sweet giggle of hers, making Barb’s smile stretch from ear to ear. Her hands came to rest on the small of Poppy’s back, tracing invisible shapes into the fabric of her dress. There was nothing like the tender moments she got to spend with the woman she loved. Staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, snuggled together after a long day in their respective kingdoms...it was bliss. All that Barb had ever dreamed of.  _

_ “You look ready to fall asleep,” Poppy said as her thumbs stroked along Barb’s jaw. “Wanna call it a night?” _

_ “Mm...not just yet.” Barb hugged Poppy a bit tighter. “Though, I wouldn’t mind an early goodnight kiss…” _

_ With a playful smirk, Poppy leaned in and softly pressed her lips to Barb’s. Barb sighed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around Poppy more fully, prompting Poppy to do the same. They stayed that way for a while, sharing gentle kisses and tender touches, until Poppy moved her hands lower to grab more firmly at Barb’s waist. Her lips moved lower too, peppering Barb’s cheek and jaw with kisses as she slowly worked down to her neck.  _

_ “Oh, Poppy…” Barb breathed, one of her hands becoming lost in Poppy’s silky pink locks. “You’re so perfect…” _

_ Poppy just hummed against Barb’s skin in response, not letting up on the lovemark she was busy leaving on her partner. Unable to resist, Barb leaned forward to close her teeth around Poppy’s ear for a sneaky nibble. The small moan it earned was music to her own ears.  _

_ “My handsome devil…” Poppy purred, pushing herself up to sit back on Barb’s lap. “Tell me you love me?” _

_ Barb’s ears almost fluttered with the pure glee that surged in her chest. “Oh, I...I love you so much, my queen,” she said, hands smoothing up and down Poppy’s thighs. “Do you love me, too?” _

_ Poppy’s smile grew wider as she smoothed her hands up over Barb’s chest, over her collarbone, and along her jawline to delicately cradle her face. Barb’s eyes shone with hope as Poppy leaned forward. Her bangs brushed over the bridge of Barb’s nose as she tucked her face against the rock queen’s, mouth hovering over her ear close enough that Barb could feel Poppy’s hot breath against her. Could Poppy hear her heart pounding in her chest? Barb didn’t care. All she wanted was to hear those three words spill from Poppy’s mouth.  _

_ “Barb…” Poppy whispered, smoothing her hand over the prickles of Barb’s undercut. _

_ A shudder gripped Barb as tightly as she held onto Poppy’s waist. “Yes?” _

_ “You’re snoring.” _

The pillow that smacked Barb right in the face wrenched her from her sleep hard enough to make her sit up with a gasp. Her eyes were still blurred with sleep, making her dark surroundings even more difficult to make out. The heels of her hands were ground into her eyes until she could finally get her bearings; Poppy’s room. The sleepover. It was a dream. The compliments, the cuddling, the touching, the...kissing. A cold sweat seized Barb. She anxiously looked over at Poppy, who had the corner of the pillow that she’d whacked Barb with clasped in her hand. Snoring...she’d been snoring. Had she woken Poppy up? Had she been talking in her sleep about how she...felt about Poppy? Did Poppy hear?

Barb swallowed hard before whispering so quietly that she could barely even hear herself: _ “...Poppy?” _

Nothing. In fact, Poppy let out a tiny snore of her own. The pillow slap had just been a reflex. With that terror out of the way, an intense humiliation and shame washed over Barb.  _ Dreaming  _ about Poppy doing that to her...and vice versa. She could’ve gagged. Lower than dirt, that’s what she was. What kind of freak has dreams like that about girls they’re not even dating? 

Unsteadily, Barb crawled out of her sleeping bag and started to roll it up as quietly as she could. She had to leave. There was no way she could spend the rest of the night there after that. She couldn’t risk it. She didn’t  _ deserve  _ it. 

Once both her sleeping bag and her overnight bag were slung over her shoulders, Barb started to carefully creep towards the door, keeping her eyes on Poppy’s slumbering form. She looked so peaceful...a little angel all wrapped up in blankets and pillows. Tears almost brimmed in Barb’s eyes when she thought about the disappointment Poppy would feel when she woke up to an empty pod. Disappointment in Barb. Her eyes turned downcast as her sweaty hand shook around the doorknob. Maybe this wasn’t-

“...Barb?” 

Barb’s heart leapt into her throat as she spun around, a sleepy-looking Poppy slowly sitting up to face the escaping troll before her. 

“Where’re you going?” Poppy asked through a yawn. 

“I-I have to go.”

“You’re taking your stuff with you to the bathroom?”

“No, I-” Barb wanted to sink through the floor. “I’m going home.”

Poppy’s eyes widened with, just as Barb feared, disappointment. “What? Why?”

Think fast. “I...um...I forgot to...t-to feed Debbie!” This seemed to only make Poppy feel worse; Barb’s heart ached over the pain she was causing the pink troll. “I’m really sorry…”

“Oh, it’s...it’s okay!” Poppy did her best to put on a smile as she shrugged. “Let me at least walk you to the door…” She hopped out of bed to follow closely behind Barb, who was practically making a beeline for the front door. “You sure you don’t wanna wait till the sun comes up? It’s kinda dangerous…”

“I’ll be fine.” Getting eaten alive would probably be a blessing at this point. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, totally! Tell Debbie I said h-”

Barb threw the door open and stepped out, shutting it behind her before she could notice the goodbye hug Poppy was offering. She clamored down the steps, nearly tripping once or twice, until  _ finally  _ she’d reached her slumbering critterbike. It was not at all pleased about being woken up in the middle of the night, but after a few moments of warming up, Barb shot off into the dark towards her own kingdom. She couldn’t bring herself to look back. 

The ride back felt like an eternity. Her mind was reeling with guilt, she felt dirty and disgusting, and she could already feel the rage boiling in the back of her skull. Rage at herself for the abhorrent dream. For causing Poppy to feel even an ounce of negative emotions. For even coming up with the idiotic idea of a sleepover anyway. For getting drunk, spilling secrets that literally no one else had ever heard...Rocks were in her head, there was no doubt about it. Her knuckles turned white as she revved her critterbike to go even faster, teeth gritted as she tried not to grind them to dust. 

Once she was back in her fortress, flame could have been following each heavy step to her bedroom with how angry she was. It burned every nerve in her body. Everyone was definitely asleep at this hour and Barb knew that a huge commotion would draw more attention than she wanted at this point. So, she scrounged up what little self control she had left in her body and did not slam her bedroom door behind her. She did not pick up a guitar and smash it into the mirror by the bathroom door. The tower of speakers in the corner stayed standing, the glass in her window was left unshattered, and the bed was not flipped and torn to shreds. Instead, Barb stiffly walked over to her bed, gathered up all her blankets and pillows into one ball, stuffed her face into it, and let out a long, furious, muffled scream. And repeated that until her voice was shot, her adrenaline had teetered out, and her body gave in to sleep.

\---

The dreamless sleep Barb was having was interrupted by a rather hungry Debbie giving her owner’s face a few slaps with her wings. Her eyes fluttered open to the sight of her pet bat’s bugged eyes staring directly into her own.

“Mornin,’ baby bat…” 

Debbie chattered excitedly, giving Barb a few more pats for good measure before flitting over to the alarm clock sitting on the table. Barb dragged herself over her bed, through all the jumbled blankets and pillows, and grabbed her alarm clock, holding it up to her face so her sleep-blurred eyes could make sense of it. 

Ah. Four in the afternoon. Oops. 

As she stumbled out of bed to go get Debbie her very late meal, pajamas wrinkled and hair looking like she’d slept on her head, Barb could feel that guilt crawling right back up her spine and into her brain. Poor Poppy...being left in the middle of the night to be all alone. What if she had some sort of special breakfast planned? Totally ruined, thanks to Barb. What if she’d laid awake for the rest of the night, sad and lonely, wondering if she’d done something wrong? 

Trudging into the kitchen, head swimming, Barb reached into the fridge and pulled out a can of worms for Debbie and a stick of pepperoni for herself. “Oh, Debbie…” she groaned, sliding down to the floor against the fridge doors as she opened up the can. “I really messed up, huh?”

The forlorn words seemed to go right over Debbie’s head as she watched the open tin closely. Barb just sighed and grabbed a handful, offering them to Debbie. While Debbie gobbled those up, Barb used her teeth to open the pepperoni stick before taking out a decent chunk. 

_ What to do now? _ Barb chewed thoughtfully, weighing her options. One: she could never go back to Pop Village again. Not prefered, but possibly for the best. Two: she could write a letter of apology to Poppy and  _ then  _ never go back to Pop Village. Though, now that Barb thought about it, neither of those could stop Poppy from coming to Volcano Rock City...and she was too feisty to keep out, Barb knew. So that left option three: go apologize in person and try to make up with Poppy. Terrifying to think about, honestly. There was the possibility of Poppy not forgiving her, leaving their relationship in ruins and possibly the entire truce between rock and pop trolls in tatters. That wouldn’t be good. 

“You wanna help me fake my own death?” Barb grumbled to Debbie. 

After a moment of open-mouthed staring, Debbie just hissed and snatched a few more worms from Barb’s hand.

She was right. Barb had to think realistically about this. If Poppy could forgive her for attempting a rock takeover, she could probably forgive her for bailing out on their sleepover. Probably. But if she was going to apologize today, she had to get moving. Over half the day was already gone thanks to her “beauty rest.” Barb snorted at herself. Some queen she was. 

Dumping the last of the worms in Debbie’s food bowl for her to enjoy, Barb took one last bite from the pepperoni stick before shoving it back in the fridge. Quickly, her feet carried her back to her room. Time to get to work; make herself look a bit presentable before going to see the Queen of Pop. Maybe wear a nice vest? Put in her gold earrings? Anything to look a bit less...how she normally looked. Barb glanced in her mirror as she dug through her closet for something half decent. Hm. Should probably comb that rat’s nest on her head too while she was at it. 

In twenty minutes time, she was back in front of her mirror for some final decisions. Reapplied smokey eye, tamed mane, gold earrings, belt with gold skull buckle, torn jeans, usual tank top, studded leather jacket. And one self-conscious queen in the middle of it all. Barb huffed and put her hands on her hips, imagining Poppy standing before her. She did her best attempt at a heartfelt smile. Yikes. Those gnarly fangs were nothing like Poppy’s smile. Her face slumped back into her usual tired frown. 

A barrage of knocking on her door jolted Barb out of her negative thoughts. “What, what?” She called, scrambling over to get to the door. 

Riff stood on the other side, drumsticks he’d used to knock twirling in his hands. “Hey, Queen Barb! Where’ve ya been?”

“Who wants to know?” Barb growled, leaning a stiff arm against the door frame. 

Pausing his twirling, Riff looked behind him. “Uhh...just me!”

It may have been five in the afternoon, but it was still too early for this. “Okay...I’ve just been in here…”

“Oh, okay! Cuz I didn’t see you at breakfast or lunch or at any of the meetings you had today-” 

“Yeah, well, I was busy. And I’m busy now.” Barb started to shut the door in Riff’s face.

“W-Wait!” Riff stuck a drumstick between the door and the frame, stopping it short. “Are you okay?”

Barb bristled at the question. “Of course I’m okay. Never been better.” She shoved the drumstick out of the way and shut the door before making a realization.

Riff stood alone in the hall for only a moment, puzzled, before the door was opened once more. 

“I. Have to go this way,” Barb mumbled, exiting her room and brushing by Riff. “I’ll be in Pop Village if anyone asks.”

“Sure thing, Your Rockness!” Riff called after Barb as she stalked down the hall.

\---

The whole ride over to the pop kingdom, Barb had been practicing her apology speech to Poppy, working through all the different scenarios that could go down in her head. She’d thoroughly prepared herself for whatever could happen and had her words carefully selected. A successful apology, for sure.

Then it all went down the drain when she arrived and spotted Poppy sitting next to a flower garden, happily eating ice cream with Branch. Talking, laughing, sitting way too close to each other...Barb’s eye twitched. She didn’t even realize she was practically storming towards the couple until Poppy spotted her, their eyes meeting.

“Barb! Hey!” Poppy said, a mixture of surprise and delight in her voice. “What’re you doing here?”

Branch jerked his head around to stare down Barb, who was meeting his icy gaze with an equally fiery one. Her disdain only worsened when he nudged himself closer to Poppy, as if he was trying to shield her. 

“Hey...I wanted to talk to you, Poppy.” Barb stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, doing her best to give off a confident aura. 

“About what?” Branch said with notable suspicion. 

Barb ignored him completely, waiting for Poppy to respond. Branch’s brow furrowed. 

“Oh, uh…” The tension between the two trolls before Poppy was palpable. “Sure thing! Go ahead!”

Barb’s ears folded back and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Um...in private, maybe?”

“Anything you have to say to her, you can say to me,” Branch said flatly, resting a hand on Poppy’s knee. 

The sight made Barb clench her jaw. “I don’t-”

“It’s fine Barb, Branch is cool!” Poppy patted Branch’s hand and kept it there. “I’m all ears!”

Barb’s stomach had dropped to her toes. “Uhhh...I-I just...Sorry, about...y’know, last night…”

“What?” Branch looked at Barb accusingly, his grip on Poppy’s knee switching to her hand. “What’d you do?”

“Mind your business,” Barb snapped.

“Hey, alright...no need to be testy.” Poppy shot a look at both Barb and Branch. “...Barb, thank you...I understand, Biggie’s run off in the middle of the night before to take care of something with Mr. Dinkles. Stuff happens. We’ll just have to have another sleepover soon to make up for it!”

Barb nodded slowly, mind racing too much to focus on any words to spit out. All she could do was look at their hands. Poppy and Branch were holding hands. Her fists balled in the pockets of her jacket. What did this mean. Was Poppy...taken? By stick-boy over here? A nightmare come true. There was no way. Right?

“...Barb?”

With a start, Barb refocused her attention on Poppy. “H-Huh?”

“You okay? You kinda drifted off there for a sec.” Poppy looked at Barb with genuine concern as she took a long lick of her ice cream. “Something else on your mind?”

Instantly, Barb’s face was aflame. “...No. I-I mean, yeah, I’m fine, but.” Trainwreck incoming. “I’m...I’m just tired. Gonna head back to my kingdom.”

“Oh! Alrighty, no problem. Let me give you a goodbye hug real quick!” Poppy let go of Branch’s hand and filled the absence with her ice cream cone, much to Branch’s annoyance. 

Though Barb had major butterflies the moment Poppy wrapped her arms around her, she couldn’t help but meet eyes with Branch and allow a gloating smile spread across her face. It was wiped away once Poppy pulled away, waving to Barb as the rock queen practically power walked to her critter bike. There was much to mull over. 

\---

Barb hadn’t lied; despite her sleeping in so late, she really was exhausted. The mental image of Poppy holding Branch’s hand, him having his hand on her knee, his protective stance around Poppy...it all made her skin crawl. Anger and heartache fought within Barb as she trudged to her room. She didn’t even have the energy to smash a couple guitars and make herself feel better. Instead, she just went straight for her bed, shrugging off her jacket and replacing her jeans with some red sweatpants before flopping facedown into bed like a corpse. 

The sun had just barely set, and already there was some kind of ruckus going on in the fortress to keep Barb awake. She perked an ear up and quickly deducted its location: Riff’s room. Barb growled out a sigh into her pillow. Sure, she was all for a sick party, but tonight, she really just needed to shut her mind off from everything and end the day. No sleep meant more thoughts, and more thoughts lead to overthinking, which Barb knew would lead to...undesirable actions. One way or another. 

With a huff of dread, Barb heaved herself up out of bed. Time to go ruin a party like the awesome queen she was.

Once she’d slugged her way down to the end of the hall, the noise of rowdiness and fun growing louder with each step, Barb stood outside the door for just a moment. Riff seemed to almost never be alone in his room. The geeky drummer always had some sort of company. He was very well-liked. It irked Barb more than she was willing to admit. She’d have a royal rock concert and go home alone while Riff was practically carried off by a small mob of admiring men. How did he do it?

Taking a brief moment to set her face into something more firm, Barb lifted her fist and hammered it against the door. The chatter, music, and laughing within stopped immediately.

“Riff!” Barb barked. “Wrap it up! I’m trying to sleep!”

A few hushed whispers, grumbles, and rustles seeped through the door before it suddenly swung open. A practical stampede of dudes clamored out, most adjusting clothing and shooting Barb dirty looks. She just watched them all file out, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows knitting together more and more as time passed, until the very last straggler trotted out with a wave goodbye to Riff. Said troll stood nervously in the doorway, hat crooked and seemingly a bit embarrassed.

“S-Sorry, Queen Barb! I didn’t know you were back already!” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered a crooked smile, which was unreturned. 

“What were you all  _ doing  _ in there?” Barb muttered. 

“Uhh...just, y’know, jamming out!”

Barb gave Riff a once-over. “Your shirt is on backwards.”

Riff seemed to tense considerably, a hand jerking up towards the collar of his shirt. “Oh, uh...I-I...um-”

Surprising them both, Barb uncrossed her arms and sighed heavily. “Dude, it’s fine...I don’t care what you and the groupies or whatever get up to, I just...I’m tired. Maybe just take it to someone else’s place if it’s gonna be that many guys, okay?”

Though his eyes weren’t visible, they were definitely widened in shock under that hat. “Oh...uh, yeah, Barb. Sure thing.”

Barb nodded, but kept her eyes downcast and feet planted in front of Riff. He knew that look. She had more to say. Riff stood stiffly, waiting for whatever verbal wrath was about to slap him in the face. 

Sweat beading on her brow, Barb started cracking her knuckles. “Um...Riff?”

“...Yes?” Was barely squeaked out of him.

In a flurry, Barb grabbed Riff and dragged him into his room, shutting the door behind them. “I need to ask you something.”

Shirt still in Barb’s grip, Riff just nodded vigorously. The expression on Barb’s face was one that he’d only seen maybe once or twice before. Not her usual angry scowl or sulky glower; something more...vulnerable. His shoulders slumped back down once Barb released him from her hold. She started to anxiously rub the studs on her bracelets. 

“...How do you...talk to girls?” 

Riff blanched at Barb. “...Talk to  _ girls?” _

Barb nodded, cheeks and ears turning pink and eyes still glued to her own hands. 

“...I don’t know if I’m the right guy to ask about girls.”

“Well, I mean…” Barb held back an exasperated groan and rubbed her brow ridge. “Just. How do you always have someone in your room with you? What do you say to...get them to like you like that?”

Oh. Right. Barb was...inexperienced. Riff would’ve felt a swell of pride if he wasn’t practically quaking in his beanie. 

“Uh, well, I guess I just…” He shrugged loosely. “Go up and talk to them. Or they come up and talk to me.”

“But what do you  _ say?”  _

“I dunno. Whatever comes to mind. If I think he’s nice, we’ll come hang out and stuff here.”

Barb looked up at him with near desperation in her eyes. “But...But how do you even get them to  _ like  _ you enough to do that?”

Riff had to admit, the near hopeless look on Barb’s features was pulling on his heartstrings. “I-I dunno, I just...they just like me for me.” He wished he had more to offer his queen.

This didn’t seem to be the right answer. Barb’s whole body seemed to sink in on itself for a moment before she snapped back to her usual hard and unpleasant demeanor. But Riff could still see the hurt in her eyes.

“Barb, y’know, if you just put yourself out th-”

“We’re done here,” Barb growled, turning on her heel and stomping to the door. “This doesn’t leave this room unless you wanna figure out how to drum with one hand! Got it?”

“Y-Yes, Your Awesomeness…” 

Barb paused mid-door slam, looking back at Riff with a mixture of regret and fear. “...and fix your shirt, dummy.”

With that, Barb shut the door with a bang and did everything in her power to not run down the hall to her room. That door was slammed behind her as well, almost drowning out the frustrated cry that tore out of her throat. Poppy, liking her for  _ her?  _ Fat chance. There was nothing to like, especially not for a pop troll. What was she even thinking, going to Riff for advice in the first place? She just made a complete fool of herself...already no one really respected her in this kingdom, and now Riff knew that she, the queen of rock, was struggling with  _ dating? _ Pathetic. 

Bypassing her bed now that she was too riled up for sleep, Barb went over to glare into her full-length mirror instead. She leaned in, nose almost grazing the glass. That stupid, tiny, upturned pig nose that just made her nightmare eyes look even bigger than they already were. A face only a mother could love, and here she was, motherless. Barb dragged her hands over her face, peeling her lower eyelids down and sticking her tongue out between her teeth. Grotesque. That’s what Poppy saw. Poppy saw her sandpaper skin, her dry hair, her craggy teeth. She saw a total monster. Then there was Branch...Barb’s lip curled back as she growled, hands moving up to grab her mohawk.  _ His  _ skin was probably soft. Same with his hair. Probably had nicely rounded teeth and a normal smile. Years and years of friendship. Everything Poppy deserved. 

“...I’d treat her right,” Barb whispered, voice cracking from how strangled with emotion she felt. “If I just...wasn’t  _ like this. _ ”

She bared her teeth in the mirror. A crooked, jagged, awful sight. Compared to Poppy, whose smile was like the sun. Bright, beautiful, perfect. And her skin...The smoothest, softest thing her gross hands had ever touched. How could she ever get close to Poppy looking and feeling like  _ this? _ She couldn’t. There was no way. Poppy didn’t want anything to do with her. 

As she was, anyway.

Barb stared at her hands, opening and closing her fingers. If she could just...soften herself up a bit. She could have some sort of chance. Was it guaranteed? Absolutely not. Was it worth a shot? For Poppy, she’d do anything. 

With an affirming nod, she hurried off to her bathroom to run a bath. First thing’s first: Poppy liked hugs, and hugs involved skin-to-skin contact. Making that more bearable for Poppy was her priority with this bath, not comfort. Nothing about this was going to be comfortable. Barb checked the water’s temperature: close to scalding, but not quite. Bearable. Perfect. A few rosey-scented bath bombs were tossed in, along with some salts and soaps that advertised “smoother skin after just one use.” Throwing the whole thing in probably counted for a lot of uses, right? Made sense. Once the tub was full, Barb grabbed two of her stiffest scrub brushes and a brittle wash cloth and eased herself in, wincing as she submerged herself fully into the boiling water. She ducked below the surface, dragging the washcloth over her face. The eyeshadow she wore floated through the clear water like black ink. Barb scrubbed for as long as she could hold her breath, surfacing only once her lungs burned for air. She spluttered and coughed, the air feeling cold against her reddening face. Progress. This was good. The two scrub brushes were snatched from the side of the tub. Barb dug the bristles into her skin, ignoring the protests from her nerves, dragging them over her entire body. 

_ “Oh, Barb!”  _ Barb spoke to herself, trying her best to imitate Poppy.  _ “What did you do to your skin? It’s so soft and nice, way better than Branch’s!”  _ She snorted to herself and blinked the tears in her eyes back. “Hmph. Bet I could hold her hand better than him, too.”

After a solid 20 minutes of scrubbing, the water had started to cool and Barb’s skin was totally raw. The usual dull pink color she had was now almost an alarming fuschia, with blood beading up from particularly scourged patches. Despite this, Barb was smiling, now lathering away at her hair with her third handful of conditioner. She was going to be like a pad of butter once she was done, she was sure of it. The pain just meant it was working. Right?

Barb paused. Ran her trembling hands over her arms. The roughness she felt made her grit her teeth. The brushes were grabbed again and applied with fury this time. Whatever. Just needed more buffing; no problem. She could go for hours if she needed to. 

\---

After two hours, the water was ice-cold and murky. Barb had finally decided to climb out, each movement making her chewed-up skin scream in pain. But it was fine. Her originally white towel may now have had splotches of deep pink, but who cares about that? There was still more to do. She staggered over to one of the many cabinets and pulled out a bottle of smoke-scented lotion. Did it feel like a hot iron against her skin when she rubbed it in? It sure did. That meant it was working. Barb smiled through it all, the thought of Poppy caressing her new, silky skin carrying her through. Complimenting her, getting close to her, asking her if she wanted to go grab dinner. If she could touch her hair and hold her hand. A laugh bubbled up out of her as she wiped the tears from her eyes. This was a good start. She’d reward herself with some much-needed sleep and get back to work tomorrow. Take a hack at that mouth of fangs and her frightening closet tomorrow. For now, her body begged to be in bed. 

Forgetting about her pajamas (they’d probably just cause more issues than they were worth), Barb just crawled into bed, gingerly pulling the blanket up over herself as she laid on her side. Her barely-open eyes rolled up at Debbie when she heard a tiny hiss.

“Hey, whatcha think?” Barb said raspily, lifting her eyebrows. “Think Poppy will like the new me?”

Debbie just stared on with her enormous eyes from her perch. Barb’s smile faded into a strained line on her face. 

“It’s worth it, I promise,” she whispered, both to Debbie and herself. “After a few days of this, I’ll go visit Poppy and see what she thinks. I bet she’ll love it.” The smile returned to her face, spreading from ear to ear. “I bet she’ll love  _ me.”  _

Holding onto that last thought like a lifeline, Barb shut her eyes and passed out cold after less than a minute. 


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, though she was unbelievably sore, Barb was ecstatic to find that her skin (other than the patches that had scabbed over) was, in fact, the tiniest bit smoother. Her hair, though a tad greasy, also felt even a bit silky. The gleeful belly laugh that left her startled Debbie awake, just before the bat was scooped up into a victory hug.

“Oh, Debbie! Things might be finally going right for a change!” Barb cheered, jumping about in her bed. 

With those results, Barb started to keep up her new routine, ending each day with a vigorous scrub-and-soak before bed. Did wearing clothes feel like her skin was on fire? Yup. Did some parts of her body look a little like road rash? Yes. Was it worth it for the other parts getting steadily softer?  _ Absolutely.  _ It was really her arms and legs that were getting particularly chewed up anyway. Easily coverable, and the irritation wasn’t quite unbearable. It was her hands and face that really mattered in the end; those areas were where Poppy would be touching during things like hugs. And such.

An honest attempt was made to file her teeth down to a rounder, friendlier shape, but all she could manage before caving was the one snag tooth she had on the bottom right. That was a whole different realm of pain; sharp and piercing through her whole jaw. Left her with a headache for the rest of the day and then some. Barb came to the difficult conclusion that she’d just have to work on smiling with her mouth closed for now. 

After a solid two weeks of her custom skin treatment, Barb felt ready enough to go and visit Poppy. But first, she needed a wardrobe adjustment. All the black, grey and dingy red made her stick out like a sore thumb in Pop Village. Most likely made her an eyesore for Poppy. That was going to have to change. Her royal seamstress, Chordelia, was rather confused at the odd list of requests that had been handed to her. The firm scowl that Barb gave her, however, made any inquiries vanish quickly. Just as ordered by her queen, she put together three new outfits for Barb. One: an orange-yellow button up with a red chili pepper print, coupled with black and white checkered pants. Two: a white button-down shirt with billowing sleeves, light brown pants, and a red belt. Finally: a sweatshirt with a pattern similar to that of the carpet found in old bowling alleys and cuffed black jeans. No rips, no stains, no sliced off sleeves or hacked away collars. Just color and fun. She’d fit right in at Pop Village.

Now, here she was, parked on the outskirts of the village, tugging at her collar of her chili pepper shirt and scanning the mass of trolls before her for a familiar pink face. Over two weeks of work had been put into this new look of hers, and she was excited to show it off. Kinda. Really, she just wanted to see Poppy and avoid everyone else. The stares she was receiving already were not helping to boost her already shaky confidence. Plus, her body somewhat felt like she’d been mildly flayed. Looked a bit like she’d been boiled in a pot like a lobster where she was visible. Only a bit, though; hopefully not enough to have any kind of comment made about it. 

Barb continued to putter around the village, searching high and low for Poppy, butterflies and palm-clamminess getting worse with each passing minute. How hard was it to find a bright pink troll?

Just when she was ready to chicken out and zoom back home, the pop queen was spotted: Sitting idly at a picnic table, happily munching away on a sandwich while putting together some sort of scrapbook. Better yet, she was all by herself. Barb parked, put on her best closed-mouth smile (she’d been practicing in the mirror all morning), and started strutting over to a blissfully unaware Poppy.

“Hey, Popsqueak!” Barb joked, feigning surprise as she threw both arms out into the air. “Fancy seeing you here, eh?”

Hearing the familiar voice, Poppy seemed to perk up instantly, but her warm greeting seemed to die on the tip of her tongue as she turned and saw Barb. To say she looked stunned would have been an understatement.

“...Barb?” Poppy finally forced out, turning to sit side-saddle in her seat to get a better view at the rock queen. “Whoa, what happened?”

Okay...interesting response. “Just...trying something out!” Barb started to grin, but quickly corrected herself and pressed her lips together. “Ah...do you like it?”

Poppy was barely processing Barb’s questions, too busy taking in the trainwreck in front of her. Well, maybe it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, but...extremely different from what Poppy was used to. This was the queen of rock, after all, and here she was...dressed like some sort of puppet. And a colorblind one at that. 

“Well, it’s uh...like you said, different! But not bad!” Poppy was of course doing her best to stay positive. “Did you go tanning, too?”

Damnit. “No, I...I’m trying a new skin-thing!” She extended a hand after wiping it as carefully and discreetly as she could on her checkered pants. 

After a moment of staring at the shaky hand in front of her face, Poppy squinted and pulled a grin onto her face. “Are youuuu pranking me right now?”

“...What?” Barb’s smile slid away. “No, I...I’m serious.”

Still, Poppy was unconvinced, taking another bite of her sandwich and sitting back against the edge of the table. “This is a pretty good prank. Who put you up to it? Branch?”

_ “No,” _ Barb snapped before she could catch herself. “I…” She cleared her throat and tried to snuff out her sparking temper. “I’m really trying to...I dunno. I’m just trying something.”

Poppy halted her chewing and looked Barb in her eyes. They looked full of nervousness and dwindling hope...maybe something else? She was just honestly having a hard time taking Barb seriously. She looked like a dad that had just gotten back from a vacation. That hand that was still extended for her to take just seemed very...misleading. Poppy squinted at Barb’s colorful sleeve. Barb’s face lit up when Poppy finally took her hand, but immediately came crashing back down when Poppy twisted her arm flat and yanked up her sleeve.

A horrified gasp left Poppy when her eyes met the scrapes and sores.  _ “Barb... _ Oh my God, what  _ happened?” _

This was bad. Barb didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t; her mind was practically melting down with how poorly her plan was panning out. The tears that were welling in Poppy’s eyes did not help in the slightest, either. This was  _ upsetting  _ Poppy. 

“Doesn’t this hurt?” Poppy reached over to pull back Barb’s other sleeve and, sure enough, that arm was torn to shreds as well. “Seriously, Barb, what happened? We need to wrap these up, like, yesterday.”

“I-I…” The truth wasn’t an option. “...It’s just road rash. From a...a stunt accident. During a rock show.” She quickly yanked her sleeves back down before any unwanted attention could be drawn. 

Poppy winced, hissing a breath through her teeth. “No wonder your skin looks the way it does...C’mon, I’ll patch you up at my pod. It’s just a few minutes walk, okay?” Poppy got up, abandoning her scrapbook and lunch, and started to pull Barb off towards her royal pod. 

Barb just allowed herself to be tugged along, staring at Poppy’s hand that was firmly holding her own. Did she think her skin was softer? Did she even like the outfit? Was this all just a giant flop? Poppy hadn’t said a word about anything, really...other than thinking it was all a joke. She thought Barb was a joke. Great. 

“Are your legs hurt like that too?” Poppy asked, looking back.

A familiar guilt was starting to brew in Barb’s chest as she nodded. “Yeah. All over.”

The sympathetic look Poppy gave her made Barb want to find a hole to crawl inside of forever. Being carted off like this, torn up and filled to the brim with shame...it reminded her of an incident she couldn’t quite repress. Barb sighed and pulled on her bitten ear, trying to distract herself from everything. Just when she thought things were looking up…how ignorant of her. 

When they arrived at Poppy’s, the pink pop troll promptly took Barb into the bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub, warning her to stay still. Feeling about a centimeter tall, Barb did just that, bashfully watching Poppy root around in the cabinets beneath her sink and fighting to not crack her knuckles under the stress. 

“Take off your shirt, okay?” Poppy ordered. 

“...what?”

“Pants too.”

Was it too late to hightail it out of there? Barb sat, totally frozen except for her darting eyes. Maybe a daring escape down the drain was possible. Down to the sewers with the rats. Perfect. She kinda looked like a rat, she’d probably fit in-

_ “Barb.”  _ Poppy’s firm voice jerked Barb from her jumbled thoughts. “C’mon, I don’t want you to get an infection or something.” 

Biting back her protests and swallowing her pride, Barb shakily started untucking her shirt, moving slower than molasses. Poppy turned to face her after a moment, med kit in hand and an unusually serious expression on her face. Seeing that Barb was taking her sweet time, Poppy brazenly reached over and started undoing the buttons on her shirt with expert speed. Barb could feel her heart skip several beats while Poppy efficiently yet gently took her shirt off, leaving her in a black undershirt that had been haphazardly cut into a loose makeshift crop top some months ago. 

“Jeez, Barb...what kind of stunt were you trying to pull?” Poppy ran her fingertips over Barb’s raw shoulder in a feathery touch. “Some of these look pretty fresh still…”

This was all way too much. Barb flinched away in both pain and just sheer overstimulation. She practically flew backward and Poppy started tugging at her belt.

“What’re you  _ doing?”  _ Barb finally forced out, skin somehow managing to turn an even brighter shade of pink. 

Poppy, hands palm-up in confusion, shrugged at Barb. “You said it was all over! I’m trying to patch you up here!”

“I-I don’t need to be patched up-”

“Barb, oh my God-”

“I’m fine!” 

“Uh, obviously not.” To prove her point, Poppy lightly smacked her hand down on Barb’s knee. 

The rock troll barely strangled back a yelp, scrunching her face at the burning pain. She couldn’t even focus enough on the fact that Poppy was touching her leg to get embarrassed over it. 

Poppy shook her head and removed her hand, grabbing up some soothing creams and gauze from her kit. “Pants away, girl.”

Away they went after another moment or two of hesitation, leaving her looking very mousy in her efforts to cover up her red music note-print black boyshorts with her arms. Of course the humiliation of that wasn’t enough; Barb also had to be hit with the look of quiet anguish Poppy was wearing as her eyes slowly traced over every cut, scrape, bruise, and sore that covered Barb’s body. 

“It’s not that bad…” Barb whispered as she hung her head. “...don’t look at me like that.” 

“It looks like it hurts.” A small pile of ointment was squirted into Poppy’s palm. “This is gonna hurt too, by the way.”

“So don’t bother.”

“Shut up and let me take care of you, Barb.” Poppy’s tone was impatient and firm; she shifted to kneel in front of Barb’s knees. 

That shut Barb up and brought a whole new wave of heat over her body. Poppy was right; the cream did hurt, no matter how carefully Poppy eased it on. But, though she wasn’t about to admit it to herself, the fact that it was Poppy doing it...that Poppy  _ wanted  _ to take care of her. That made it just a bit easier to deal with. More than once their eyes met, lingering for just a bit before Barb would flick hers away and go to crack her knuckles. Which Poppy would not hesitate to remind her that she found that gross. Old habits die hard. 

“You never answered my question, by the way.”

Barb perked her ears. “Uh…”

“About what stage stunt you were trying to pull?” Poppy interrupted her wrapping of Barb’s right forearm to look up at her with a warm smile. “Must’ve been pretty crazy.”

Ah, right, she’d lied to Poppy. “Oh, yeah, it was pretty sick. I, uh… _ ow, ah- _ ” Barb tensed as Poppy went back to wrapping. “I-I launched myself...out of a canon. And landed kinda hard and fast on the volcano rocks.” Good. More lying. 

Cringing, Poppy sucked in a breath through her nose. “Ouch…! I’m surprised you didn’t break anything!” She patted Barb’s newly bandaged arm. “Lucky you!”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Barb grumbled, grateful to not have her story pressed. 

“Here, grumpy-pants,” Poppy giggled, taking Barb’s hand and squeezing some ointment into it. “Get under your shirt. I’ll get your back after I’m done with your legs.”

Like a good little brainless minion, Barb did what she was told, though her work was quick and sloppy. Poppy touching her legs was distracting at the very least. She practically blew a fuse when Poppy suddenly reached over to snap the waistband of her underwear, an amused smile across her face. 

“These are cute! Where’d you get them?” 

Barb shooed her hand away hastily. “Do you  _ mind?” _

“Not at all!” Poppy chirped.

This troll never ceased to be a chipper little...something or other. “...I get all my clothes custom made.”

Poppy couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Barb having a drawer full of custom undies. “Oh, cool! Satin and Chenille make a lot of my clothes. But most of them I just go out and shop for in the village. Helps me get to know everyone, y’know?” Her eyes flicked up to try and catch Barb’s, but the rock queen was busy craning her neck back to study the ceiling. “Did your seamstress make all that?” Poppy nodded to the outfit that was piled up next to the tub. 

“Yeah…” Please don’t ask-

“What’s up with that, anyway?”

Damnit. “Like I said. Just trying something.”

Poppy cocked an eyebrow as she worked her hands up Barb’s thigh, not noticing the rock troll’s breath hitch. “Okayyy...and what made you wanna do that?”

Barb’s brain had turned to soup in her skull, eyes closed to avoid accidentally staring at Poppy. How on earth was Poppy able to be so nonchalant about all this...contact? Though the cream made her wounds burn, that didn’t change the fact that Poppy was practically feeling her up. Okay, she totally wasn’t, but. No, yeah, she wasn’t. Get your head out of the clouds, freak. Barb gave her head a good shake to try and at least get her thoughts together enough to respond. 

“Uhh...why not?” Convincing. 

After a couple blinks, Poppy shrugged. “Fair. Just seems...out of character for you.” 

Poppy decided to leave her prodding at that, wanting to try to show a bit more support for Barb. The poor troll was obviously suffering plenty already, no need to get her all worked up over some plaid pants. To be honest, Poppy was going to miss Barb’s usual attire if this became her new norm. Something about the hard rocker aesthetic was oddly appealing to her. It was...dangerous. Edgy. Exciting. Would Barb change her hair too? It did look somewhat different...shinier? Would she grow it out? Poppy wasn’t sure how she felt about all that. She liked Barb for who she was...but of course wanted to support her through any changes she was going though. Maybe it was just her trying to work through some of that negativity she’d been stuck in her whole life. Adjusting to the whole “world peace” thing. Branching out into other genres, perhaps? Folk rock was a thing. Was clown rock a thing?

_ “OW!”  _ Barb hissed, nearly toppling back into the tub as she jerked her leg away from Poppy. 

“Oh, oh!” Poppy’s hand shot out to catch Barb by the shirt, not wanting to hurt her more by reaching for an arm or a hand. “Sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention...Oh, ouch…” The now open slice on Barb’s inner leg slowly started pearling out bright pink blood. “You poor thing…” More gauze was gathered into Poppy’s hands and, after dabbing a bit of disinfectant, pressed against the cut. 

Through her pain-tightened expression, Barb watched Poppy closely, her softly spoken words warming her ears. They were affectionate...caring. Unfamiliar to Barb. Something to stash away in the back of her mind. The pop queen worked so diligently...taking the time out of her day to care for Barb and her foolishly self-inflicted damage. That she lied about. That was done for Poppy in the first place. Barb let out a deep sigh and slouched forward slightly. 

“Hold this here, okay? It’ll stop bleeding in a minute.”

Barb did what she was told wordlessly and Poppy continued her treatment on Barb’s other leg. Soon enough, they were both wrapped up snug, as was most of Barb’s torso. Some soothing cream was also tenderly rubbed onto her neck, face and ears (Barb did that herself), and her unbandaged hand. 

“There! You’ll heal up great, just give it a week. Branch gave me this stuff; he makes it himself!” Poppy bounced back to her feet and went to put her supplies away. 

Talk about a gut punch out of left field. “Oh…’kay. Thanks.” Her intact ear twitched. “...really. Thank you.”

Poppy glanced over her shoulder at Barb, the surprise in her eyes quickly melting into warm pride. “My pleasure.” A beaming smile was offered.

After a moment, Barb smiled back. Wait. Poppy’s eyebrows lowered as she squinted. 

“Did you chip a tooth during that tumble too?”

Barb’s hand reached up to her filed tooth immediately. “Oh, uh...y-yeah, I guess so.”

“That sucks, I loved that cute little snag tooth of yours!” Poppy shrugged and turned back away. “Oh well.”

Barb blinked. Felt her eye twitch. Went to go put her clothes back on. 

After bidding Poppy a hasty farewell and apologizing for interrupting her day (Poppy sending her off with a small tub of the ointment and the instructions to take off her bandages after a couple days and keep applying the cream after her showers), Barb drove back to her fortress, silently stewing. She stewed, and stewed, and stewed. All the way to the entrance, up the stairs, through the dark and dusty labyrinth that was as familiar to her as the back of her bandaged hand. Made sure to avoid anyone who might see her looking so ridiculous. And when she made it down the hall to her room, everything that had stewed in her started to boil. The white buttons on her shirt flew across the room in every direction as she tore it open with a snarl, throwing the ruined shirt on the floor at her feet. The pants were ripped away in a similar fashion and thrown clean across the room. 

“Idiot,” Barb muttered with gravel in her voice, grinding her palms into her eyes as she moved towards her bed. _“Idiot.”_

Though it was barely four in the afternoon, Barb felt done for the day. The blanket was ripped back and thrown back over herself once she’d climbed into bed, not caring about all the stinging from under her wrappings. She was boiling over. All of the stirred up emotions, the mixture of pain and pleasure from Poppy’s touch, Poppy’s  _ words... _ The undeserved sympathy and care. The flirting that wasn’t flirting because it was just Poppy being Poppy. It all sat in her gut like thick black slime; coated the inside of her skull and stained all of her thoughts. Everything felt so  _ wrong.  _ And before she knew it, tears were gushing down her face and her frame was shuddering with heaving sobs. She was a miserable failure. All she’d succeeded in was making Poppy take time out of her busy day to take care of her like some helpless little kid that had scraped their knee on the playground. Lied to her. Horrified her with her body. Permanently took away one of the probably very few aspects of herself that Poppy actually liked. Teeth didn’t grow back, and at this point, neither would her dignity. She’d made an utter, utter fool of herself once again in front of the most perfect woman in the world. This was never going to work out. Nothing would ever come of this. To even think for a second that it would have been a second wasted, and she’d managed to flush two whole weeks down the drain during this delusion. Poppy didn’t love any of it. Didn’t even  _ like  _ it; couldn’t take her seriously. She was a joke to Poppy. At this rate, Poppy probably would get so freaked out by Barb’s outlandish behavior that she wouldn’t even want to be her friend anymore. Just the thought made Barb’s stomach lurch so violently that she thought she’d be sick over the side of her bed. To have no Poppy in her life after just a few months of her sweet kindness and beauty...It would be like the last star in a terrifyingly dark sky burning out. She’d feel alone. Guideless. Left to wander and navigate these unfamiliar territories on her own. Right back where she started. 

She ached. Oh, how she  _ ached. _ She wrapped her arms around herself, but it was nothing like how Poppy did it. It felt rough and cold. Nothing had ever changed, really. One hand moved to the extra dressings on her leg. Pressed into it, hard, until more hot tears spilled down her cheeks. It was disgusting, how her body reacted to Poppy’s touch. Every time some stupid blush ran over her face, or a flash of heat washed over herself, or her heart pounded and palms got sweaty and mouth got dry and brain got hazy- and everything in between. Every time, it made her want to just start apologizing over and over to Poppy.  _ I can’t help it, I’m sorry.  _ She shouldn’t even be around her if she couldn’t learn to not burst into flames at just the  _ thought  _ of Poppy doing something to her. Even something as innocent as treating some injuries had been twisted into some fantasy by her gutter of a mind. Even as she laid there, eyes screwed shut and arms wrapped around her head, she couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of warmth recounting the sweet way Poppy touched and spoke to her. Barb shivered again and groaned. This body was like a hellish prison. 

_ My pleasure.  _

Barb’s choppy breathing slowed when those words rang back to her in Poppy’s angelic voice. There was no way that was true, was it? What positive feelings could be gleaned from all  _ that?  _ On Poppy’s end, anyway. She was just nice. So wonderfully, blindly nice. Part of Barb wanted to push Poppy away, make her save that kindness for someone who deserved it. Why couldn’t Barb do that in the moment? Why was this always an afterthought? Why was she so selfish? So damn hypocritical?

Feeling herself start to spiral into a place that she definitely wanted to avoid, Barb sat up abruptly and gave her mohawk a few firm tugs. Something to ground herself. New plan. She needed a new plan.

One thing was for sure: she’d been reaching out to Poppy too much. Driving over there unannounced, staying at Poppy’s pod, hanging around in Pop village. She’d been a clingy, needy, smothering weirdo. Barb needed to just hunker down in Volcano Rock City for a good while. Wait and see if Poppy reached out to  _ her.  _ And not just with a “get well soon’ card or whatever. An invitation to something, a proposal for a hangout in the rock kingdom, or even just an impromptu visit. It would all have to come from Poppy and Poppy only. Even if she had to wait days, weeks, months...or if nothing ever came from Poppy ever again. It didn’t matter if the thought made Barb feel sick to her stomach all over again; this was necessary. Poppy would be in control of their future now. 

A long, heavy breath gushed out of Barb after she’d held it for who knows how long. She could do this. This would be fine. 

A knock on her door made her bloodshot eyes snap wide open. Bandaged, tear streaked, and half naked wasn’t exactly the best state to be in for greeting people. 

“Barb?” Riff’s voice called through the door, muffled and unsure. “You alright? I thought I heard you go by my room…”

Couldn’t keep that big nose out of anything, could he? Barb rolled her eyes and settled back down into her lumpy mattress, pulling the blanket up to her nose and turning her back to the door. He’d buzz off after a minute or two of dumbly standing there.

“Barb, I...I’m gonna come in if you don’t say something.”

Barb scoffed to herself. He wouldn’t dare.

A good ten seconds of silence before the doorknob started turning. Barb twisted around so quickly her neck popped. Riff peeked in, barely getting a foot through the door before stopping short at the sound of Barb’s chilling warning:

“Get. Out.”

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay-” Riff stopped short, narrowing his eyes from under his hat at Barb’s trembling form. “Are you crying?”

_ “Get OUT, Riff!”  _

“Okay, okay! Okay!” Riff scurried out, hastily shutting the door behind him. 

Fueled by sheer anger and humiliation, Barb bolted out of bed over to the door.  _ “You better sleep with one eye open under that sock on your head, moron!”  _ She screeched through the door.  _ “Have a bodyguard in your bed tonight if you know what’s good for you!” _

It was an empty threat, for the most part. Barb’s chest heaved as her rage roiled inside of her with every other emotion she’d thought she’d stuffed down, storming and blazing until she couldn’t hold it all in anymore. Her fists collided with the door with a scream that tore at her throat. A guitar was grabbed and slammed into the defenseless door next, the body splintering into pieces and leaving just the neck in her grasp. That was hurled across the room with a roar, straight out the (thankfully) open window. 

Riff laid in his bed, the sounds of destruction and hollering from down the hall nothing new to him. Normally he’d be a bit more wary of Barb’s tyrades; they could sometimes travel from room to room. But lately, Barb had been acting so odd...Being away from the kingdom without warning, wilder mood swings than usual, a sleeping schedule that was bizarre for even the hardest rocker. That interaction a few weeks ago...the most vulnerable he’d ever seen Barb. And then tonight, he’d found her in bed when the sun was still out, crying into her pillow. Over...what, exactly?

All at once, the crashing ceased, but Barb’s anguished wailing still echoed through the walls to Riff’s ears. As badly as he wanted to check on her again, he knew it would do more harm than good when she was like this. He just nudged his head under his pillow and pulled it over his ears with a sigh, preparing to wait out the storm. She’d burn herself out eventually. Though it was her anger that usually carried on more than... whatever this was. The image of Barb’s tear-stained, shame-burned, terrified face smoldered in Riff’s mind.  Something was wrong with the queen.  _ Very  _ wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry barb ;o; i promise ill have a chapter with a happy ending at SOME point!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for all the sweet comments and your patience!! I've been really busy with work, classes, all the good stuff...but finally got a solid chunk of time to finish this chapter! I hope this was worth the wait :)
> 
> ALSO: here's the song I imagined could be playing during that certain part of the party scene: https://open.spotify.com/track/7zFXmv6vqI4qOt4yGf3jYZ?si=iYgpROuvQv-HvXqACY77Hg
> 
> it's one of my favorite more sultry songs for parb :)c
> 
> enjoy!!

Sat on her throne, surrounded by softly burning candles, her dinner of beef stew cold and untouched on an arm of her chair, Barb stared into the empty room before her. Shadows slow-danced over the walls and ratty furniture through the red glow of the candle light. Her dad had gone to bed hours before, and she could hear Riff and whatever boy toys he had with him having a romp in his room a few halls down. She was all alone. Even Debbie had fluttered off to Barb’s room for the night around the midnight mark. And that was a good while ago. But Barb was wide awake.

Two weeks. More than that, actually, had passed since the last time Barb had seen Poppy. She was holding firm on her abstention from Pop Village in all forms, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. Cravings. That was the word for it. Barb had cravings. There were just a few things that the rock kingdom couldn’t offer her and it left her feeling very unsatisfied. 

And so she sat, entertaining herself by singeing the fuzz off her fingers off with the closest candle flame. Though she’d healed up nicely thanks to Poppy’s careful instructions and salve, that meant that she was back to her rough, brittle self again. In fact, she was back to more than just that. With a significant lack of Poppy in her life, Barb had dipped back into a few bad habits of hers. The unsent letters, the poetry...the cape. Anything to quiet the building need that slowly wore on her willpower. A few of those letters were nearly sent with how hazed her mind had been, completely moonstruck at the idea of Poppy reading them and making the journey to her room to enact the activities described in Barb’s scratchy handwriting. However, a bit of quality time with the cape usually managed to bring her back to her senses, and the letters would be stashed away before she settled down for a restless, guilt-molded sleep. 

Barb sighed and plucked a hair from her red mohawk. She watched it burn in the flame, curling up and turning a dusty black, nearly reaching her fingers before being whisked away by another long huff through her nose. This distraction wasn’t working. Loneliness was steadily oozing into her chest cavity, weighing it down, and the incessant noise from Riff’s room wasn’t helping much to qualm it. She closed her eyes and tried to block it out; imagined Poppy’s voice in her ears instead. Whispering something sweet and playful in her ear...cupping her cheek with an unbelievably soft hand. Holding her close. Tangling their legs together. Comforting and cuddling her. 

Barb opened her eyes with a shiver. Time for bed. 

One hot shower later, Barb was flat on her back and tucked underneath her covers, eyes barely focused in the inky blackness of her room. Sleep wasn’t coming to her. There was something missing. There was  _ always  _ something missing. Some _ one.  _ Even before Poppy, there was just this void she could not fill for the life of her. She was the queen of rock, sure, but being ruthless and sickening didn’t mean she wasn’t also needy at times. Well, maybe not needy...just. With need. Those cravings or whatever. Basically, the bed was big, and she’d spent more than a handful of nights laying on her side, imagining someone there next to her. All while listening to Riff and his many, many bedmates through the walls. Sure, good for him, rock on, but...it did make everything that much more real for Barb. Added a nice layer of bitterness to it all. To perform a royal rock show for your entire city, sing your heart and soul out in your best outfit for hours, get the crowd riled and rowdy...only to be completely ignored after the show, while her drummer practically gets carried away by a group of admirers. To say it stung would be an understatement. But, as Riff said: he just talked to trolls, and they liked him. Talking wasn’t easy for Barb. At least when it came to talking to other women. Always seemed to end in her making a fool of herself. It was lonely at the top, that was for sure...She hadn’t lied when she’d opened up that teeny, tiny, slivery bit to Poppy when she had her as...well, prisoner. Barb cringed at the memory. The distaste in Poppy’s face when Barb had suggested that they were similar...It had burned in the back of her throat for longer than she had expected. Stuck with her all this time. 

And yet…

Barb rolled over on her side, snaking a hand off her bed to grab a corner of green cape between her thumb and index finger, rubbing it in slow circles. 

Poppy had forgiven her. Offered friendship...something Barb had never experienced before. And for Barb, that had quickly blossomed out of control into whatever  _ this  _ was. 

Still holding onto the cape, Barb hugged her pillow close, eyelids drooping. Too tired to sleep...but she was still dreaming.

Over in the pop kingdom, Poppy was experiencing something similar. Plenty sleepy, but mind running in circles and keeping her awake. She was starfished in her bed, eyebrows furrowed in thought, eyes wandering around as if searching for answers. An annoyed huff broke the silence of her room. She didn’t get it. Barb was so  _ weird.  _ Not in a bad way...she was an interesting troll that Poppy really wanted to crack open and pick apart like a little geode. It was the rollercoaster behavior that really confused Poppy. One minute Barb wanted to spend a bunch of time with her; they’d have fun, laugh, chat, get into some deep stuff. Then the next minute, Barb was disappearing for weeks at a time. No warning, no letters, nothing. Radio silence. Was this normal for rock trolls? Did they need some sort of recharge period? Then again, Barb didn’t seem much like the average rock troll. She had a funny vibe about her. A nervous energy. Electric. Poppy almost fed off it; it excited her, sparked a sort of mischief in her that she didn’t feel with most other trolls. And now that Barb hadn’t given her any kind of contact in almost three weeks...she kind of...craved it. 

One stray thought she’d had around the one week mark was that, maybe, she’d offended Barb. Accidentally insulted her and her new outfit. Poppy had to admit, sometimes her bluntness did her no favors. Normally it could roll off her back pretty quickly if she accidentally put someone off, given the forgiving nature of pop trolls and her own bouncy attitude, but...the idea that she hurt Barb’s feelings genuinely was affecting her. She wanted her relationship with Barb to stay strong and build into something fulfilling for the both of them. 

So, of course, Poppy had sent a letter. 

_ Dear Barb,  _ She’d written, 

_ I hope you and your kingdom are well! I’m missing you over here in Pop Village. What’s been up? How’s the new style going? Is your skin all healed up? Sorry for the million questions, I’m just curious! I hope you come to visit again soon. We need another sleepover! Write me back and we can set up a date! _

_ Love,  _

_ Poppy _

Short and sweet, how Barb usually liked it. And with no glitter. She’d stuck the card on the back of a snail and sent the little mail carrier on its way, off to far away Volcano Rock City. That was nearly two weeks ago now, and Poppy hadn’t heard a peep back for all that time. With a long sigh, she rolled over onto her stomach and stared at her headboard. Something wasn’t right...she could feel it. She  _ must  _ have upset Barb. What other reason was there for such a long hiatus between them? Barb wasn’t one to ignore Poppy...this must be big. 

That was when Poppy knew what she had to do: Throw an apology party. Just her and Barb, food that Barb liked, decorations with less glitter and more black, rock tunes, and some heartfelt communication. She had to let Barb know that she had her back, no matter what Barb wanted to look like or be. Would it sink in? Poppy would make sure of it. 

Seeing that she probably wasn’t going to get any sleep (especially with her newfound excitement with her idea), Poppy sprang out of bed to get to work at her desk. This invitation had to be made  _ special.  _ Impossible to ignore. And delivered as quickly as possible. 

\---

Struggling to keep her eyes at least cracked open, Barb poked at the bacon strips that sizzled in the pan in front of her with a dented up spatula. She liked it just a little black around the edges...but it was going to be charcoal if she didn’t manage to not fall asleep standing up. Not one minute of sleep had been had that night. No matter how many puffalos she counted, or rock lullabies she hummed to herself, or moments with the cape she had, she just couldn’t get her brain to turn off. So here she was, barely aware of what was going on after her second sleepless night in a row. 

_ Maybe today you’ll hear from Poppy. _

Barb snorted to herself with an eye roll. As if. It would be another day of boring queen duties and pointless longing. The bacon was shook in the pan and Barb barely twitched when the grease popped and hissed in the pan, droplets sizzling on her skin. 

“Yoo-hooooo...anybody home?”

Jolting out of her haze, Barb swung her head around, looking for the source of the voice. The kitchen was empty save for Debbie eating her wormy breakfast by the fridge. No one sitting at the table, no one hanging around by the doorway or window...definitely no one cooking beside her. Barb blinked and scratched her head. Maybe the lack of sleep was really starting to mess with her-

“Hey- Yeah, over here, sleepyhead.”

The spatula in Barb’s hand fell to the stone floor as she gasped. What she thought had been just a cloudy day outside suddenly turned into a cloudy day  _ inside  _ as some sort of weather creature floated into the room, an indifferent smile on his face as he peered around the messy kitchen. Debbie hissed, fluttering her wings and making a beeline for refuge in a scratched up cabinet. 

“Wh-Who the h-”

“Special high-speed delivery for Queen Barb from yours truly: Cloud Guy.” Cloud Guy’s arms swung to and fro as he glanced around questioningly with half-lidded eyes. “You seen her?”

After giving her eyes a good rub to make sure she actually was seeing a talking cloud, Barb replied cautiously. “Uh…that’s me…”

“Perfect!” A letter was produced from one of his faded socks and held out to Barb, who regarded it with some disgust until he added, “...from Queen Poppy! Enjoy, Jeepers Creepers!” 

Not even noticing the playful jab, Barb’s ears perked and all exhaustion was instantly traded for almost bursting glee.  _ “Poppy?”  _ She snatched the purple envelope from his lanky fingers and stared at it like it held the secrets to the universe. “What’s it say?”

Cloud Guy shrugged, already heading back to the window with the same grin he had worn for the entirety for his visit. “Dontcha know it’s a crime to look in other people’s mail? Yeesh!” Halfway out the window, he gave Barb a wiggly-fingered wave goodbye. “Enjoy your party, Queen Barbie!”

Not even bothering to process what he said, Barb just tore into the envelope with her teeth and plopped the card into her quaking hand. To her relief, no glitter shot out; only a few pink and red streamers followed by a cheery little ditty. Below in hand-cut, colorful felted letters was a short message that brought Barb on an emotional rollercoaster:

_ Dear Barb, _

_ You’re invited to a very special private event: Poppy’s Apology Party! The single guest of honor? You! Bring your most authentic self and get ready to be apologized to! Yay! _

_ Meet me at my pod tomorrow, Friday, 7 PM sharp. Wear whatever you’d like! Get ready for your favorite food, music, and heart-to-hearts! See you there! RSVP so I know Cloud Guy didn’t give this to some random troll! _

_ Love, _

_ Poppy _

Barb blinked. Read the card again. Again. What was an  _ apology party?  _ What did Poppy have to apologize for? The card was carefully folded up and tucked into her hair as Barb checked over her shoulder for any eavesdroppers. Couldn’t be too careful with sensitive subjects like this. She supposed that she’d just have to find out what this was all about tomorrow. 

A sudden smokey scent that was a little stronger than what Barb was used to smelling in her fortress hit her suddenly. She whipped around to see black smoke rising from her bacon pan. Oops. Well, whatever. With almost a skip in her step, Barb just tossed the pan into the sink and started up a fresh batch of bacon, even adding a couple eggs on the side this time around. Poppy had invited her to a private party...just the two of them, it sounded like. Barb could feel her hair bristle at the thought, down to the fuzz that flocked her body. What an unexpected leap in the right direction. Well, she supposed it was the right direction? Definitely the one she’d been hoping for. Another day or two and she’d get to see Poppy...see her playful smile, hear her goofy laugh...Barb sighed dreamily as she scrambled up her eggs, propping an elbow up on the counter. Whatever she was gonna apologize for, Barb was sure she’d forgive Poppy for in a heartbeat. Anything to prevent another drought between them like that. 

Once her breakfast was finally cooked, Barb shook it all onto a plate and headed off to her room, practically shoveling it all into her mouth along the way. She had to RSVP immediately. There was, what, less than two days before the party? There was so much to do before then. Had to make a whole card to send, cram all her queen duties for tomorrow night into today, put some kind of outfit together...something  _ normal  _ and not obnoxiously bright. Something other than the wrinkled black shirt and boxers she had on now. Maybe Poppy would like the leather jacket again-

“Hey, Queen Barb?” 

Barb froze just outside her room, turning slowly with chipmunk cheeks full of egg and bacon, shoulders raised defensively. Riff stood a few doors down, peeking out of his own room apprehensively before giving an awkward grin and a quick wave.

“Hi. Um...how’re you?” 

The memory of Riff barging into her room uninvited the other night prickled in the back of Barb’s mind as she swallowed her food. “What’s it to you?”

Riff drummed his fingers nervously on the edge of his door, eyes shifting back and forth beneath his hat. “Just wondering. You’ve been looking kinda tired lately and-”

“Right.” Barb jerked her door open, still glowering at Riff who seemed to have swallowed his tongue at the venom in Barb’s voice. “How about you make yourself useful and check on my dad?”

“Yes, Your Rockness…” Riff winced as Barb’s door slammed behind her. He huffed out a defeated sigh and went to go do as he was ordered. 

The anger that creased Barb’s features flattened into frustrated regret for just a moment as she paused next to her door. The instant was just that, an instant, before Barb tossed the empty plate in her hand onto the floor next to her bed. There were more important things to do than have some kind of sappy conversation with Riff. 

A few pieces of parchment and a couple sticks of charcoal were grabbed before Barb settled into her bed, using an old guitar body as a makeshift table to write on. She made the RSVP short and sweet, not looking to sound desperate or anything. What she really wanted to focus on was the little drawing she planned to include. Just something simple; a charcoal doodle of the pair of them hanging out. Barb could feel a blush creep over her face as the charcoal swooped and curled over the page to form Poppy’s hair and softly rounded face. Captured that beaming smile and the playful light in her eyes. Barb sighed. Next to the delicately drawn Poppy, she quickly scratched herself in. 

Once the letter and drawing were safely rolled up and sealed with a red lightning sticker with her name on it, Barb gave it to Debbie to deliver and sent the squeaking bat on her way. Barb watched her pet flap away from the window for a while, arms resting on the edge and a smile stretched over her face. Only when Debbie disappeared over the rocky horizon did Barb pull herself away to start on her workload for the day, new energy in her bones. She finally had something to look forward to. 

\---

Friday night had taken its sweet time arriving, leaving Poppy constantly glancing at the clock, only for it to say five minutes had passed rather than the hour it felt like. Ever since she’d gotten Barb’s RSVP and the adorable drawing with it last night (which she promptly framed and hung on the wall with all the other pictures of her friends), she’d been practically electric with energy. All the foot stomping, arm waving, hand flapping and self-hugging couldn’t even begin to make a dent in her frazzled and ecstatic state of mind. All she could do was blast through her queen tasks for the day and keep making mental notes and plans for the party that evening. This was a party for Barb. Not her. The decorations, she decided, would be bat themed (luckily she had plenty leftover from Halloween), the food would consist of a nice big pot of veggie chili, and the music a special, hand-crafted rock playlist that Poppy put together with careful consideration of Barb’s tastes. All that was left was Poppy’s actual apology. Which, honestly, she was dreading. 

Poppy wasn’t sure just how forgiving Barb was. Didn’t know if she was the type to hold grudges or not. It was something that had been worming around in her brain for most of the day, making the time move slower at first, but as the day wore on and the hour that she’d actually have to face Barb to give her the apology approached, time seemed to accelerate to alarming speeds. Before Poppy knew it, she was getting a bit of deja vu, running around in her pod and making any final touches she could before her guest arrived. 

Meanwhile, just outside the rock kingdom, Barb was zooming through the woods on her beetle bike. Nervous energy was released from her through just tuneless humming and tongue clicks at first, but that gradually progressed into almost joyous belting of  _ Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked.  _ Finally,  _ finally  _ she was going to see Poppy. And she’d prepared for the occasion: combed hair, a slightly less torn tank top, and a dark denim jacket. Everything else was her usual attire, but she figured she could spice it up just a bit for such a special occasion. She was surprised that she wasn’t more anxious. Really, she had no idea what to expect, as she usually didn’t with Poppy, but a small party in her pod with just the two of them sounded like a possible make-up opportunity on Barb’s end for the sleepover she’d botched. 

Halfway there, Barb barely noticed a small snail mail carrier, chugging along determinedly towards Volcano Rock City. It was very much a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, so Barb didn’t pay it much mind. Figured it was just lost. 

Once the soft, colorful lights of Pop Village came over the horizon, Barb felt her heart clench and soar at the same time. She encouraged her beetle bike to speed up and they shot off. At this point, her trusty steed pretty much knew where its final stop was when they were headed to the pop kingdom. It slowed right up next to the mossy stairs leading to Poppy’s pod, settling into the ground for a rest as Barb gave its head a thankful pat. Barb took the stairs in twos, running her hands through her windblown hair along the way, until she was faced with Poppy’s pod door. 

Poppy’s ears perked with a gasp as the chorus of  _ We Will Rock You  _ was knuckled into her door. She was just setting the steaming pot of chili down on her coffee table next to the dishware and drinks. 

“Come on in!” She called, using her hair to press play on her cassette player. 

Soft rock greeted Barb’s ears as she stepped in, but she barely registered it though her glee of seeing Poppy. “Hey!”

The enthusiasm from Barb made a good chunk of Poppy’s apprehension dissolve. “Hi!” Poppy quickly shed her oven mitts and tossed them aside to trot over to Barb, taking the rock troll’s hands. “Gosh, Barb, thank you  _ so  _ much for coming.” Though Poppy didn’t let it show, heartache gripped her for a moment when she saw Barb back in rocker attire rather than whatever zany outfit she would’ve had on had Poppy not made her rude comments. 

Poppy’s slightly serious tone made Barb raise an eyebrow, but her grin remained. “Yeah, no problem. Why would I miss it?”

With a shrug, Poppy led Barb over to the refreshments table. “O-Oh, y’know! Queen business, amiright?” 

Barb pressed her lips together with an understanding nod. She glanced up at the unexpectedly dark-colored decorations. Little paper bats were hanging from the ceiling, illuminated by red and yellow fairy lights. Barb couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“Oh, do you like those?” Poppy asked eagerly, hands now clasped in front of her. “I know how much you like bats!”   


“Yeah, they’re sick,” Barb said as her gaze now fell to the steaming pot of chili. “...Is that-”

“Veggie chili, just for you!” Poppy happily grabbed a bowl and started ladeling a few scoops into it for Barb. “I hope you like it, I spent forever looking for the perfect recipe. I know it’s your faaaavorite!”

Veggie. Barb barely managed to not scrunch her face at the implications of that word. Still, she accepted the bowl with a smile and settled next to Poppy on her couch. 

“So, Barb…” Might as well get on with it. “I...I guess you’re probably wondering why I invited you to an  _ apology  _ party.”

Blowing on her spoonful to cool it, Barb nodded, eyes going back and forth between her food and the pop troll. 

“Well…” Poppy took a deep breath, poking at her defenseless bowl of chili in an effort to not let her doubts get to her. “I...wanted to apologize for how rude I was last time we saw each other.”

Barb paused mid-bite to gawk at Poppy. “You mean when you took the time to patch my dumb self up?”

“You’re not dumb!” Poppy insisted. “And it’s not about that; I mean when I made fun of what you were wearing. I’m sorry I did that...I should’ve just encouraged you instead of making you feel bad about trying something new.” Poppy looked up from her now thoroughly flattened chili at Barb with wide, pleading eyes. “I hope you can accept m-”

“It’s fine.”

Poppy blinked once. Twice. A couple more times. “What? No, it’s-”

Barb interrupted once more, scoffing a bit as she slouched into the couch. “Really, Poppy, it’s okay. You were right, I did look like a joke.”

“You didn’t!”

“I know I did.” Barb took a bite of her food, a bit disappointed by how mild the spices were. “You really don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Poppy sat for a minute, pouting and again attacking her dinner. “Well, I’m still sorry. I wasn’t nice to you. And now look, you’re back in your old clothes?”

“Is that bad?” Barb asked through another mouthful, only half kidding. 

“No! No, not at all! You look nice in whatever you wear, really!” To make her point, Poppy reached over and gave the collar of Barb’s jacket a quick tug. “This? Very handsome. I like it a lot.”

Barb nearly choked. Her chill persona was washed away almost immediately with the bright pink flush on her cheeks. 

“My point is…” Poppy retracted her hand and busied it with fiddling with the hem of her dress. “...whoever you wanna be...I’m here to support you.” A hopeful smile spread over her suddenly rosier cheeks. “As, y’know. A best friend.”

That smile. Barb couldn’t help but melt as she grinned right back, teeth and all. “Thanks, Poppy.”

Though she didn’t understand it, Poppy could feel the silence between them in that moment. It was teeming. With Barb watching her with those big, startlingly pink eyes, she felt her face grow even warmer. Both their bowls of chili steamed in front of them, forgotten. Their smiles had dimmed into more content, almost curious expressions. Neither had quite registered that they were pretty much staring at each other. Poppy licked her lips and Barb’s ears lowered slightly.

Then, a song that was much different from the gravely rock that had been playing quietly in the background, causing Poppy to perk right up from her odd daze. “Oh! How’d this song get in the playlist?”

Barb sat back and cleared her throat, also jerking herself back into reality enough to take in the music. It was slow and sultry, the bass line dripping with romantic undertones. Poppy grooved by herself for a moment from her seat, Barb desperately trying to look away. Especially when the lyrics began drifting through the air, describing deeply committed love. 

“This song is one of my  _ favorites  _ to slow dance to…” Poppy sighed, eyes shut as she moved her shoulders to the beat. “Really nice after tearing it up on the dance floor for a few hours, y’know?” She opened one of her eyes to peek at a very blushy Barb. 

On impulse, Poppy took Barb’s chili bowl from her hands and set it on the table, wrapping her hand around Barb’s now free one. She pulled the rock troll to her feet wordlessly, leading her to the open floor, closer to the cassette player. 

“Dance with me?”

Oh man. To say Barb’s heart was ready to burst would’ve been an understatement. Still, she allowed Poppy to manipulate her body; the pop queen pulled her close, one hand already resting on her trembling shoulder. The other gently guided Barb’s hand to her waist. Barb practically had her clammy hands in Poppy’s armpits before Poppy snickered and pushed the left one down to her hip, encouraging Barb to do the same with the other. After an odd involuntary shiver, Poppy intertwined her own fingers behind Barb’s neck and swayed to the rhythm, coaxing Barb into the dance. Gradually, as the song drifted on, the stiffness left Barb’s limbs, the wriggling fear and doubt in the back of her skull was soothed, and she allowed herself to relax just enough to actually enjoy this moment she was having with Poppy. Though, she couldn’t quite fool herself into believing that she wasn’t still quaking with every note that floated in the air. 

Poppy, much to her own bewilderment, found herself more jittery than she had been while dancing with someone in a while. She didn’t know where to rest her eyes or what to really do with herself (other than dance, duh). Was she expecting Barb to be such a good slow dancer? To be honest, not at all. Rock music didn’t exactly call for this kind of...softness. But Barb had surprised Poppy with this unexpectedly tender side to her. Her footwork was smooth, her dips easing, and her overall rhythm complementing Poppy’s perfectly. It made her stomach flutter. The tension was thick and unspoken between them. So, Poppy spoke. 

“Did you practice this before you came over or something?” She murmured with a half smile, her teeth poking out over her bottom lip.

Barb bashfully shrugged, eyes half lidded and the faintest grin tugging on her mouth. “Oh, yeah, totally. You caught me.”

Poppy snickered, fingers curling into the bottom of Barb’s mohawk. “Well, a queen as handsome as you...I’m sure all the ladies are lining up to have a dance, huh?”

Another shrug, but with less smile. “Mm...Same could be said for you.”

“Aw, you think I’m handsome?”

“...well...maybe something more like...I dunno,  _ beautiful _ , o-or something.”

“I’ll take that too.” The snorted out giggle that came from Barb made that buzzing in Poppy’s chest come right back. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh of her own.

The song went on, lyrics deepening along with the tune, making the both of them a bit more hot under the collar. Barb’s grip on Poppy tightened unknowingly, drawing her even closer to herself. Their noses were less than an inch away from brushing against each other, breaths mingling and the heat coming off of their faces burning to the point that they could almost feel it radiating off one another. The song went on about summer romances, lovers, and an intimate closeness that made both of them falter in their steps for a moment. 

Then, much too soon for Poppy’s liking, the song faded into silence. Barb slowly released Poppy, but the pink troll let her hands linger on Barb’s shoulders for a moment or so longer, as she disappointedly wished Barb had done. She pressed her fingertips in, the denim beneath them rough and starchy. Barb trembled. 

“Um...Poppy-?”

“Jeez, your shoulders are so tense!” Poppy blurted out, giving Barb another squeeze. “C’mere, I’ll fix that up for you!”

Before Barb could even get a word in, Poppy backed her up to the couch, maneuvering the both of them so that Poppy was sat behind Barb. That pesky jacket was pulled away and draped over the back of the couch. Barb felt like this was all some sort of fever dream; she just went along with whatever Poppy wanted like some sort of brainless little minion. Not in a bad way, just...in a very hazy, blushy, Poppy-is-about-to-touch-my-skin way. She could feel something squirming in the back of her mind, trying to yank her out of her moment, but Barb decided to just allow this and...see where it led them. For now.

With skillful precision, Poppy started massaging Barb’s shoulders, starting just under the base of her neck. Poppy hadn’t lied; Barb’s muscles were very, very tense. The quiet sigh that left her made Poppy’s ears perk.

A small, nervous chuckle left the pop troll. “Man, even your knots have knots!” Her voice lacked its usually cocky playfulness; in fact, she sounded rather unsure and timid. 

Barb could just barely nod in acknowledgement, lost in the unexpected bliss of the massage. She’d never really had one...Barb wondered if all pop trolls were skilled in this area, or if Poppy in particular just had magic hands. Poppy inched along Barb’s skin, each small sigh and lean into her hands from Barb making her feel a mix of satisfaction and an anxious need for more. Once she’d reached Barb’s shoulder blades, the rock queen couldn’t help but let out a small moan that made both of them freeze for just a moment. In an effort to keep any awkwardness at bay, Poppy just went right back to it, focusing in on a particularly stubborn knot rather than the butterflies forming in her stomach. A few stray hairs from Barb’s mohawk brushed against her nose and forehead every few seconds. Each time, Poppy felt prompted to glance up and study Barb from the back. All the fuzz along her muddy pink skin, her fairly fresh looking undercut, the charming asymmetry of her ears...Poppy felt drawn to her ears especially, the bitten one in particular. When she got the urge to kiss it out of nowhere, the urge to give Barb comfort and a loving touch on such a badly damaged part of her, she barely stopped herself from following through. All she managed before stopping herself was a sharp lean forward, sticking her nose directly into Barb’s hair. 

Barb was having urges of her own. The strongest was to just whip right around and grab Poppy up for a clumsy kiss. Obviously, that wasn’t happening...but Barb couldn’t help but have more and more heat moving through her veins as Poppy’s hands traveled lower and lower down her back. She could even feel Poppy’s breath on the back of her neck now. Another moan left Barb’s throat as Poppy dug into her sore back, but she was too caught up in the rush of it all to really even care. Her hands gripped her knees. Sweat beaded on her brow and collected in her palms. Chill out...this was just a friendly massage between pals. Sure, Poppy’s hands were now practically wrapped around her hips as she worked her thumbs into the small of her back. Maybe Poppy’s face had somehow become nestled into her hair. Poppy’s legs may have scooted to be on either side of Barb’s. Nothing about this screamed more than friends to Barb. The wriggling sensation in her brain became a bit more intense. 

Poppy shivered. Dragged her face lightly over Barb’s buzz with a heavy exhale against her bitten ear. Took in a deep breath through her nose, smelling the soot-scented cologne that clung to Barb’s body. Her fingers dug into the rock troll’s lower back a touch rougher. The groan it earned made Poppy’s better judgement abruptly go straight down the drain. 

“Do you like that?” She whispered huskily into Barb’s ear, her lips grazing Barb’s hot skin. 

Barb’s barely open eyes snapped right open as her whole body became rigid. That squirming in her brain exploded into near vertigo. Oh, no. It had gone too far. This was too much, this wasn’t right. She scrambled up to her feet, grabbing her jacket on the way up, stuttering out gibberish until she could finally pull herself together enough to just spit out:

“Uh, I-I have to. I gotta go. Forgot...forgot about something I had to do tonight.” The hurt and embarrassment on Poppy’s face was immediate. “But, this was great! Thanks, I, uh...had a sick time. Killer party.”  _ Stop talking and get going! _

Poppy got to her feet in a clumsy fashion, looking rather bewildered about what just happened. “Oh, yeah, no worries! Queen stuff?”

“Queen stuff.”

“Gotcha.” Poppy’s grin was tight as she fiddled with her fingers, watching Barb shrug her jacket back on and nearly throw herself at the door. “Goodbye hug?”

Barb paused and looked back, feeling her heart turn to goop at the sight of Poppy with her arms outstretched. Against her screaming internal voice’s orders and warnings, she closed the gap between her and Poppy quickly. The pop troll was lifted right up off her feet by the ferociously tight hug. She loved it, returning it with matched enthusiasm. 

“Thanks again, Poppy.”

Poppy beamed up at Barb once she was gently placed back on her feet. “Anytime. Come visit me again soon, huh? Maybe not after, like, a month?” 

Barb sheepishly rubbed the back of her now rather loose feeling neck and nodded. “Bet on it.”

And with that, Barb was out the door, feeling lighter than air. She hopped up onto the grassy side rail and slid all the way down, landing with a triumphant laugh on the beetle bike. 

Poppy watched Barb ride off into the twilight from her window, the throaty rocker scream of pure exhilaration she let out echoing through the forest. It probably would’ve instilled fear into most other pop trolls, but Poppy just sighed and felt her ears turn as pink as her hair. That all went much better than expected. Though...Poppy’s satisfaction was dampened a bit by a number of things. Namely those weird feelings. Those urges, too. Sure, Barb was a handsome troll. Very complex, aloof, snarkish. Difficult to understand and even harder to get to open up about anything. Maybe that’s why Poppy felt such a drive to become invested? To comfort and prod at and envelop Barb? Best friends, as Barb had explained to her before, had to have mutual care and respect abound. This was important in rock troll culture. For pop trolls, being besties involved a lot of contact. Tonight was just a combination of the two, obviously. 

Poppy nodded affirmatively to herself as she cleared up the dishes, using her hair to switch out the rock mix cassette for something more to her own tastes. A back and shoulder massage was full of care and respect. Slow dancing, too. All the other stuff Poppy wanted to do with Barb could all just be considered nice bonding moments. Like doing her eyeshadow for her in bed, kind of on top of her for the perfect angle, of course. Or that whole thing with wanting to kiss her ears. That was caring. Barb obviously had some baggage with that gnarly scar of hers...It was Poppy’s duty as a bestie to kiss those ears! Why she’d stopped herself if that were the case...that was where she was confused. 

Poppy brooded on all this the entire time she spent cleaning up, eyebrows furrowed and the inside of her lip sore from being chewed so furiously. If only Barb didn’t have to leave in such a hurry...She kinda doubted that Barb really had something to do, but she didn’t want to push Barb either. Another few weeks apart from each other like that was the last thing Poppy wanted, especially if she caused it by making Barb uncomfortable. Best to just give her her space and keep her hopes high that Barb would come back for another visit soon. Maybe could lure her in with another back rub; her muscles  _ had  _ been horribly tense. And she did seem to like it. Quite a bit. 

Slumping down onto her couch with a huff, Poppy pressed her palms into her eyes to try and keep all of her swirling emotions and thoughts inside. Poppy had liked it too. A lot. Her hands dragged down her face, over her dress, coming to a stop on her thighs with a firm grip. She was going to need some help with all this...from someone she trusted.

\---

Barb strutted down the main hall of her fortress, headed for her throne room for some nice relaxation and maybe a snack. That veggie chili wasn’t  _ terrible,  _ but the two bites she’d had certainly didn’t do much for her. Maybe Carol could slide her some cheez whiz. 

The tattered drape door was shoved out of the way by the almost smug troll in a flurry. That smug grin, however, slid away when she took a look around. Much to Barb’s surprise, the room appeared to be empty. No guards, no Riff, no Debbie. Not even some random straggler troll taking a late nap on one of the ratty couches. The room appeared empty. Must’ve been some big party happening that she hadn’t been invited to. Well, whatever...some alone time to process the evening would be nice. Of course, alone time implied being  _ alone.  _ So Barb nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice next to her throne.

“Barbara? Home so early?”

“Dad! Jeez, man, you scared me!” Barb laughed, a hand over her heart as she went over to greet the elderly man, both of them barely illuminated by the candles lit around her royal seat. “Yeah, home early.”

“Did your little party not go according to plan?” Thrash asked with a trembling grin. 

Barb’s eyes widened. Moments of clarity like this were rare for her dad. “Uh...no, no, I mean. It was fine. Just a quick one, is all. How’re you feeling, dad?” She rested a hand over his gloved one, her expression one of pained care. 

Thrash’s smile widened as he chuckled. “I’m feeling insulted! I know I’m old, Barb, but I’m not blind just yet.”

With a blink of confusion, Barb kept silent.

His unsteady hand squeezed Barb’s, though he was so weak she barely felt the change in pressure. “I see you running around with your face all pink...always off to the pop kingdom to visit that Queen Poppy, hm?”

Barb felt like she’d been launched ten years in the past; here she was, like a teenager caught sneaking out to go see a crush, her dad looking at her with knowing eyes. There was no point in trying to be slick. “Uh...well, yeah, I’ve gone to see her a lot lately.”

“You sure have. Having all kinds of fun over there, huh?” He couldn’t help but let out another chuckle at the sheepish, embarrassed look on his daughter’s face. “Y’know, I think some pop punk grandbabies would be pretty cool!”

“DAD!” Barb squeaked out through the old man’s now hearty laughter. “We’re just friends!”

“Just friends!” He said incredulously. “I’m not getting any younger here, Barbara!” His smile faded a bit when Barb’s eyes flooded with ache once more. “I know that you like her. I know my prickly little pincushion through and through.”

“...I know you do, dad.”

“So…? What’s keeping you from telling her how you feel?”

Barb sighed and leaned heavily against an arm of her throne, eyes drifting down to the floor. “We’re just too different...she doesn’t like me that way.”

“Have you even asked her?” Thrash suggested.

Just the thought made Barb’s gut sink. “No. God, I-I couldn’t tell her-”

“You don’t have to go spilling your feelings right off the bat, Barbara,” Thrash chuckled. “Just ask the girl to dinner! Take things nice and slow. At least at first.” Mischief glinted in his eyes, making Barb roll her own.

Asking Poppy on a date...something Barb honestly hadn’t even considered. Made her feel pretty dumb. But the gentle encouragement her father offered made her think that, maybe, it could be worth a shot. He  _ was _ right, after all...Barb traced the deep lines that creased his face with her eyes and couldn’t even begin to count the number of white hairs that now were probably a majority in his once midnight colored mane. He definitely was  _ not _ getting younger...and neither was she. 

“Alright, dad.” Barb took in a deep breath and gave Thrash’s hand a firm squeeze. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Hm?”

Barb spoke up for the hard-of-hearing troll. “I said,  _ I’ll give it a shot.  _ I’ll ask Poppy out.” She wondered if maybe she should’ve let him go without properly hearing her...now she  _ had _ to commit. Great.

Still, Thrash seemed unsure of what was going on. “Oh, ah...hm? Who?”

Just like that, he was gone. Barb just put on her best smile and patted her father’s wrinkled cheek. “Oh, no worries, man. Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“Bed?” Thrash stared at his daughter blissfully as she hopped up onto the back of his chair, using her foot to steer and resting her chin on the top of his head. “Ohh...alrighty, Barbara. Wh-Where we going, again?”

“Bed, daddy.” Barb patted his boney shoulder as they rattled along down the hall to the former king’s room, nestling her face in his hair. 

“Aw, Barbara...shouldn’t it be me tucking  _ you  _ in?”

She let out one quick laugh through her nose just as they rolled into his room. “Your turn next time.”

“Oh, alright…” He said with feigned exasperation. 

Once the old king was eased out of his chair and into bed, Barb draped his red and black knitted blanket over him and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. She glanced over at the framed, dusty photo on his table as she pulled away. It was them, over a decade back, Barb up on Thrash’s shoulders as they both threw up horns and gave wide, tongue-out smiles that could’ve been mistaken for grimaces. He looked like a completely different man then. But, really, she looked plenty different, too. 

“Goodnight, my little pincushion,” Thrash whispered hoarsely, the earlier conversation now beginning to wear on him. 

Her attention was pulled from the old picture back to the old man. “Night, dad.” Barb flicked his lamp off and walked out of the room as quietly as she could.

Thrash was snoring before she even set foot out of the door. Barb sighed as she wandered back to her throne room, clinking two of her earrings together along the way. She had a lot more to think about now. The party, Thrash’s advice, a plan to ask Poppy out...and maybe a couple punk babies. She snorted to herself. 

“One thing at a time,” Barb mumbled, nearly collapsing into her throne. 

A single hair was plucked out of her mohawk and held against the nearest flame. The burning wisp’s reflection glinted in her tired eyes. She let the tiny flame travel all the way down the length of the hair, watching the golden smolder crawl towards her fingers, until it made contact with her skin. It burned for just a moment, so she rubbed her fingers together to savor it. Her head thudded against the back of her throne as she leaned back and sighed, eyelids drooping closed. For a moment, she could’ve sworn she felt the sensation of Poppy’s sparkling eyes on her...along with her hands playing in her hair and running over her back. 

Meanwhile, Riff, who had been hunkered up in one of the blown-out speakers that lined the upper walls since much earlier to keep an eye on King Thrash, stared down at Barb from his perch. His hat was pulled back to reveal his bugged out eyes. Slowly, as to not be noticed by his queen, he slunk back into the shadows of the gutted speaker, tucked up into the corner. Mouth gaped and ears folded back in what he wasn’t sure was overwhelming fear or sympathy. Either way...he certainly  _ also _ had more to think about.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> (quick emetophobia warning for this one)

There was a lot of stewing from everyone over the next few days. Stewing, mulling, brooding...whatever you wanted to call it. 

Poppy was still struggling to process the events of the apology party and the emotions that surfaced with it. She knew that Barb was, to put it kindly, an awkward troll. Had trouble expressing herself and had a bad habit of downplaying her thoughts and feelings. Poppy knew that Barb really wanted to be good friends, and so did Poppy. She thought about the rock queen all the time, always missed her when she wasn’t around, hoped each day that maybe Barb would send more adorable drawings in the mail. Found her mind drifting off during whatever queenly duty she was working on. Just yesterday, Poppy had missed one of the gnarliest tricks in the annual Skitterboard-O-Rama when she was too busy daydreaming about slow dancing with Barb instead of announcing the competition, like she was supposed to. Poor Aspen Heitz had beamed up to her for a declaration of his gravity-defying accomplishment, but she’d been so wrapped up in the thought of Barb dipping her slow and deep to a rock ballad they were both singing to each other, she’d even missed the instant replay. 

Now Poppy was pacing through her pod, waiting for a guest. Pretending to tidy the place up by sliding a potted plant back and forth on her coffee table. Really, though, she was just stewing more over Barb and how they were becoming such close friends. Poppy didn’t think they were quite at the level of being best friends just yet, but she was determined to make it happen. And fast. She couldn’t let all these daydreams and lingering emotions impact her performance as queen any more than it already had. She had to get some advice. 

Poppy glanced at the clock. Almost five in the afternoon. He was a punctual troll, almost to a fault, so Poppy figured he’d be at the door in the next-

A gruff knock interrupted Poppy’s thoughts (she was a bit disappointed; she’d started thinking about the hug Barb had given her during their sleepover). “Poppy?”

“Come on in!” Poppy couldn’t believe that shaky voice was her own. 

Branch stepped in, eyes full of concern and movements hurried as he clamored through the door and over to the seated queen. “Hey, you needed to talk?”

A grin that screamed relief but also towering anxiety was offered to Branch, who looked even more alarmed at the sight of it. “Uh, yeah! Thanks for coming on such short notice…”

“Of course.” He sat beside her, calloused hand that was nearly double the size of her own resting over her knee. “It sounded urgent, so…”

Poppy let out a groan, slumping back into the couch in exaggerated agony. “Oh, Branch...You gotta help me out, man.”

“Is something going on? You’re not in danger, are you?” Those worry lines on his face deepened. 

Was she in danger? “I...I  _ guess  _ not?”

Branch tense, mouth agape slightly as he stared at her. “Poppy.”

“Okay, okay, not _ danger _ , but…” Poppy shifted, feeling like there was a thorn digging into her side. “Ugh, I don’t even know where to start…”

Setting his face in a more compassionate expression, Branch gave Poppy’s knee a comforting (and slightly tickly) squeeze. “Would a snack help?”

Poppy looked up at him with wide puppy eyes and nodded vigorously. Branch smiled and pulled a small leather sack from his hair. The genuine excitement on his face made Poppy’s discomfort ease slightly, but did make her a tad suspicious. Loosening the ropey drawstrings revealed many red and pink chocolate hearts, each cut out by hand. 

“I made them myself!” Branch stated proudly, shaking a few into Poppy’s palm before grabbing a few of his own. “The red ones have a kinda spicy filling, and the pink ones are more creamy.” He watched her carefully as he tossed a couple pink ones into his mouth, but he was unsuccessful in catching her eye. 

Poppy just stared at the comical snack in her hand, picking up a red one with trembling fingers. Sweat beaded on her brow. 

“Branch.” Her grave tone made the blue troll pause his chewing. “I need to talk to you about Barb.”

\---

Meanwhile, Barb had spent the last few days thinking plenty about Poppy. Trying to think more positively as her dad had encouraged her to do so. More realistically. She’d tried a few times to talk to Thrash more about the situation, wanting more guidance with her plan of action, but the old ex-king had barely been present since their heart to heart. So, Barb had been on her own. She wasn’t  _ completely  _ clueless or anything, but this was just something she hadn’t had much luck in. To mess this up with Poppy...Barb didn’t even want to think about Poppy laughing in her face or, worse, looking disgusted or uncomfortable. Of course, Poppy was under no obligation to say yes to a date, but Barb knew that if she dwelled on that scenario too much, she’d chicken out. It was time to bite the bullet. 

As she inspected herself closely in the mirror, Barb licked her hand and slicked back a few straggling pieces of hair in the front of her mohawk. Admittedly, she’d never been on a date, so she was kind of winging it. The dull burgundy suit jacket she wore was  _ still _ a bit too loose on her shoulders after almost ten years of doing nothing but collecting dust in her closet (dust that she had spent way too long trying to remove with a tired old lint roller), and the matching pants were not faring much better. Even with her skull belt latched at the tightest notch, she was still yanking the things up every few steps. Probably a sign that she should start eating more than one meal a day, but who had time for that? At the very least, she’d had a turkey leg for a late lunch, just to keep her shakes back as much as she could when she would be talking to Poppy. But other than that, she’d left her schedule open; she had a date to plan. If they were going to get dinner tonight, she had to get going. The barely-working alarm clock by her bed said it was just past five in the evening, and she was just wasting time trying to figure out how to tie this dumb black tie hanging around her neck like a dead snake. A stark contrast against her deep fuschia shirt (which, her father had told her years before, complemented her eyes well). 

With a huff of antsy frustration, Barb turned away from the mirror and went off to find her dad. It wasn’t likely that he’d be aware enough to help her knot the tie, but she at least wanted to try asking Thrash. It was a moment she’d always wanted to have with him. Who cares if it was probably a decade coming? Better late than never. However, before leaving the room completely, Barb had already had enough of trying to keep her pants up and roughly grabbed her black suspenders to latch onto herself. The last thing she needed was for Poppy to see her in her underwear  _ again.  _ She gave them a firm snap against her chest before leaving the room with a better feeling of security. 

“Dad?” She called into her throne room, where the former king usually hung around for most of the day. 

She didn’t spot her dad, but a startled looking Riff was sitting at the foot of her chair. He gave her a quick wave, which she responded to with a distracted nod as she peered around for Thrash. 

“Hey man, you seen dad?” 

Riff tightened his mouth as he shrugged. “Not since this morning.”

Barb’s eyebrows lowered. “So...who’s watching him?”

“Uhh...Carol, I think.”

Summoned, the blue rock troll lazily lifted her head up from behind a couch. “Someone say my name?”

With a warning glare at the both of them, Barb turned to go hunt for her dad in his room. “Riff! Come give me a hand!” 

“Y-Yeah, sure thing!” Barely managing to not tangle himself in his own lanky limbs, Riff rushed over to follow his queen, Carol plopping back down behind the couch promptly once he’d left the room.

As Riff tagged along behind Barb, he couldn’t help but mull over his own broodings from the previous days. Barb was in  _ love _ . It was kinda heartwarming to him if anything, and definitely explained all the weird behavior. Yet, he felt sorry for his queen...She was obviously pretty tormented over all this, particularly over the fact that her crush was the queen of pop. What a choice. Could he blame her, though? That would be hypocritical of him. The heart wants what the heart wants, and Barb hadn’t had much luck with the women in her own city, as far as he knew. The walls here made things echo like crazy, and the most he ever heard from Barb’s room was delightfully grating electric guitar solos with belted accompanying lyrics, emotional outbursts that were probably supposed to be private, and enthusiastic shower singing that he daren’t ever admit to knowing of. Occasionally, hilariously enthusiastic baby talk at Debbie. Things were quiet over there other than that. No lady visitors to be seen or heard of. Maybe not for long, though...Riff had never seen Barb wear a suit before. She must have been planning to try and woo Poppy tonight. Did she know how to woo? He’d give her tips if it wouldn’t result in her tying his arms and legs together in a hog knot. It would be alright; he had faith in Barb. It all brought a toothy smile over his face, but his curiosity and the tension that came off of Barb in waves was causing some antsy fidgeting on his end as well. 

Unfortunately, a bad nervous habit of his was the need to chatter. “Hey, Barb, what’s with the fancy garb?” Ha, that rhymed. 

From over her shoulder, Barb raised an eyebrow at Riff. “...Queen meeting.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure Queen Poppy will like it!” The blush that ran over her face caught Riff’s eye before she turned away from him again. D’aww. “Say, uh...D’you ever see that one troll when you go over to Pop Village?”

The out-of-the-blue question made Barb’s pace slow. “...Could you maybe be more specific...?”

Riff stuffed his hands in his back pockets to keep himself from picking his gloves to pieces. “Uh, the one that threw that book in your face during your concert a few months back?” Probably not the best example he could’ve given by the grouchy look on Barb’s face when she glanced over at him once more. “I-I think his name started with a  _ ‘T’ _ or...or a  _ ‘B’ _ …”

“Branch?”

The almost nauseous tone to Barb’s voice flew right over Riff’s head. “Yeah! Lives in a bunker outside their village, right?” 

“...Right…” Barb looked him up and down suspiciously. “I see him sometimes. I try to avoid it as much as possible.” Barb paused outside of her father’s room, hand on the knob. “Why?”

“Uh...I dunno. Just wondering.”

Figures...Barb rolled her eyes dismissively and creaked the door open. “Dad?” She whispered when her eyes were met with an unlit and silent room.

The lump in the bed was recognizable as Thrash, the old man flat on his back as he snoozed away. Barb watched him for a few moments to make sure she could see a steady rise and fall of his chest under his yarny, tattered blanket. Once she got satisfactory proof that her dad was, in fact, just having a nap, she closed the door again and motioned to Riff to keep quiet. They kept their steps against the leathery floor silent all the way down the little threshold until they turned the corner, heading back towards the hall that housed both of their bedrooms. 

Though Barb was good at masking her emotions, years of working side-by-side with his queen made Riff keen to the small giveaways in her features; to him, her disappointment was evident. “What’d you wanna ask him, Barb?”

Barb sighed as she stuffed her hands in her pants pockets. “Nothing. Just need my tie tied.”

“Oh! I can do it for you!” Riff, like a good little intern, reached for the tie, but Barb leaned away from his hand.

“Ah, no, thanks. I wanted my dad to do it. I’ll just leave it.” The slightly hurt expression on Riff’s face made Barb soften a bit. “...Where’d  _ you _ learn to tie a tie anyway, eh?” She nudged him in the ribs playfully with her elbow. 

Riff giggled at the tickly sensation. “Oh, heh, I taught myself! Had to teach myself a bunch of stuff like that.”

“Mm. Like shaving that nasty lil ‘stache you get now?”

“It’s not nasty! It’s something I worked very hard for. Months of effort!” Riff ran his fingers along his slightly prickly upper lip. “Maybe I’ll even quit shaving and grow it out.”

Barb scoffed with a half-grin. “Yeah, you do that. Maybe then I’ll finally get some sleep, since you’ll be alone in your room every night with that dead caterpillar on your lip.”

“Oh, what, alone in my room like  _ you _ are every night?” 

Though he’d said it with a joking grin, it slid away when Riff realized what he’d uttered. Barb’s smile flashed into a sharp frown for a moment, before she seemed to somehow pick herself back up with a chuckle and give Riff a slightly rougher nudge.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that, sock head.”

A breath of relief whooshed out of Riff. With how testy Barb had been since her last explosive outburst, he couldn’t be too careful. But it seemed as though maybe,  _ maybe,  _ she was finally cooling off. 

“When do you...think you’ll be back from your d- uh, meeting?” Riff asked, fidgety once more, but now with an odd excitement. 

Barb’s grin grew a bit crooked as her face flushed again. “Uh...I dunno. Late. Why, you planning another rowdy boy’s night?”

Now outside of his bedroom, Riff stopped, Barb turning to smirk at him jollily. “Oh, well...something like that, I guess!”

Riff was relieved when Barb just shrugged passively, turning around rather than pressing him more. “Do whatever you want. You got the night off.”

“Oh! Thanks!” He gave her a genuine smile, Barb’s positive energy infectious. “Well, uh...good luck with your  _ queen meeting, _ Barb!” He said with a loose wave, hanging back next to his door as Barb continued down the hall. “Let me know how it goes!”

Barb threw up some horns over her shoulder, her gait becoming that of a strut as she made for the fortress exit through an inactive lava tunnel. Her short climb up and out was pitch black, but she didn’t mind; her oversized eyes did have some perks, and one was seeing where she should duck her head or what path she should be putting her feet on just fine in the dark. It did, however, make her emergence into the outside a bit painful and bring about some heavy squinting for a minute or so. Dusk hadn’t quite yet settled over the city, a deep purple and blue sky giving some twilight contrast to the burnt browns, reds, and greys of the landscape. Normally, the sky was heavy with moody clouds, but they’d been absent that day. The steadily dipping sun provided just the right amount of warmth to keep her comfortable as she moved away from the boiling volcano she called home. It was truly a nice evening outside. Barb decided to bypass her beetle bike and take a stroll to Pop Village instead, headed for the distant treeline. Would give her more time to think over her date proposal anyway. 

Volcano Rock City was weirdly quiet that evening. Barb supposed it was just due to the sun still being out (though she enjoyed the warmth, no rock troll really enjoyed the bright light that came with it) and the fact that it was getting close to dinner time. Rock trolls generally enjoyed keeping in the dark underground during the day, waiting until the sun would set to emerge from their cave-tunnel homes and socialize. Above ground, Barb’s kingdom looked like a hot, dry, rocky, barren wasteland of lava and spiky obsidian. Structures like stages, light towers, speakers, and old shacks looked long abandoned. Below the igneous rock, however, in the now dormant tunnels made long ago by flowing magma, trolls communed happily. Many slept during the day to conserve their explosive energy for raging nights. Parties, shows, jam sessions, barbecues, competitions...all would be taking place in just a few short hours as the trolls popped out of their burrows one by one. Barb, stationed in her isolating fortress, often didn’t participate in these activities (not that she was invited too often anyway). Concerts of her own were really how she made her presence known, along with royal announcements made weekly. Royal rock shows were not as frequent to keep them special; maybe a couple times a month she’d get up on stage for her people. Other than that, the rock trolls would entertain themselves. She’d be sure to oversee as much of her subject’s events as she could, creeping out of the fortress at least once a day to make sure no rioting or mass destruction was going on. Usually this was done from the safety of her beetle bike, high up in the sky, or in the company of at least three royal guards. While she did feel disconnected from her kingdom’s people, she still wanted the best for them. She owed them that as queen. 

Now, walking alone in a rather unusual outfit, Barb was doing her best to keep a confident and threatening aura about her. Chin up and fists balled. A few trolls sat around in small packs, hunkered in whatever shade was available, watching over gaggles of trollings squealing and playing together. The adults didn’t give her much more than glares and passive sniffs, but the trollings did quite the opposite, all waving and calling for her to pause her trip. Barb immediately dropped her composure, obeyed and smiled warmly at the kids, who excitedly bounced right over to her. 

“Queen Barb! Queen Barb, look!” One green-haired kid stepped in front of his queen, pulling a chunk of obsidian from his tattered shorts pocket. “Don’t you think this is shaped like a bat?”

“ _ I  _ think it’s shaped like a snake all coiled up!” Another trolling insisted. 

Barb’s eyes followed each child as they spoke, all with their own opinions on how the rock looked, her smile patient and unwavering. A bat, a snake, a volcano, a snail, a tortoise, a shoe...A very creative bunch, this was. She just stood calmly, hands in her pockets, mind occasionally drifting to what her dad had spoken about days before. Punk babies...her smile grew wider.

“Well?”

Barb blinked with a start. “Hm?”

“Whatcha think?” A trolling with big blue eyes asked. “What’s it look like to you, Queen Barb?”

She extended her hand as a wordless request for the rock. It was carefully placed in her palm and she brought it right up to her face, exaggerating her inspection to earn some giggles from the kids. She stuck her tongue out, twisted and turned the stone in front of her eyes, let out many  _ hmmm’s  _ and  _ hrrmmm’s _ …

“C’mon, Queen Barb!” The green haired troll laughed, bouncing on his toes in place. 

“Alright, alright…” She returned the rock before giving her verdict: “Looks like...a sick drum set!” The kids all gasped and gathered ‘round, staring at the rock like she’d just cast a spell to make it magical and all-powerful. 

Barb chuckled and tousled as many heads of hair as she could before continuing on her way. “Let me know if you find more cool rocks! That’s pretty killer!”

Without missing a beat, the kids all scrambled off to go find more chunks of obsidian to show off to their queen. Warmth bloomed in Barb’s chest as she looked back. She always appreciated a reminder of why she worked hard as queen in the first place. 

Once she was outside the city limits, the burnt and bare trees gradually shifting into the lush and colorful environment of the forest, Barb switched gears back into date mode. The walk to Pop Village was only maybe thirty minutes; not a lot of time to practice courtship. 

“So, Poppy,” Barb murmured, feeling a touch embarrassed for speaking aloud, “...you, uh...you doing anything tonight? I thought it would be sick to…” No, no. “Poppy!” Barb extended her arms in feigned surprise. “Didn’t think you’d be home alone on a Friday night! Bor-inggg. Wanna fix that?” 

Was that mean to say? The last thing she wanted was to hurt Poppy’s feelings or offend her. What if Poppy  _ wasn’t  _ alone? What if she wasn’t even home? That concept hadn’t even dawned on Barb until now. Hunting around for her in the village would be humiliating...paint her has a desperate loser for sure. Barb’s ears drooped and her steps became less sure as more and more unfortunate (and very possible) scenarios murked her good mood. 

She stopped all together about a third of the way there, doubts too heavy to let her drag her sorry self an inch further. Maybe this was a mistake. Her outfit was too formal and didn’t even fit right. She had nothing to offer Poppy as a gift. There was no solid plan in place other than “getting dinner.” Where? Barb didn’t know any Pop Village restaurants. Would they even have food she could eat? Pop trolls were largely vegetarian, practically the opposite of rock trolls, and smothered everything in sickening amounts of sugar. It would be beyond awkward for Barb to just sit and watch Poppy eat while she, what, sipped water? Crunched ice? God. She hadn’t even gotten close to the village yet and she was already considering turning right around. 

The defenseless grass below her feet became subject to her anxious digging and tearing. Poppy was going to think she was a fool. There was no way she could do this. She needed to plan more. Another week or so at the  _ very _ least, that’s what she needed. Arms folded tensely over her chest, Barb gave her inner voice an affirmative nod and turned on her heel to head towards home. 

_ I’m not getting any younger here, Barbara! _

Barb stopped short, the lump in her throat now feeling like a brick in her gut. Thrash. She’d made a promise...and he  _ wasn’t  _ getting any younger. Twenty-seven years he’d spent raising her after finding her, egg cracked and covered with the weirdest pink pattern for a rock troll egg, abandoned on his doorstep. He’d spent over fifty years of his life alone as an heirless king before adopting her, and watched her spend over half as many years solo as well. Did that torment him? Barb gripped the sleeves of her jacket tighter as her frown deepened. Her eyebrows folded together to form deep wrinkles of contemplation on her forehead. Going back home now without making any sort of attempt to talk to Poppy would, no doubt, disappoint her father. Even if he didn’t remember their previous conversation,  _ she did _ . And she knew that it would eat at her. The guilt and regret of going back on her word...taking advantage of an old man who, most days, couldn’t remember what he’d had for breakfast in the morning. She couldn’t do that to him.

Turning slowly, now standing perpendicular to the path, facing the quickly darkening forest, Barb bit her lip and desperately tried to work out a plan. Her clothes. Too formal. The jacket was shed impulsively, so roughly that the already frayed left sleeve tore wide open at the shoulder. Whatever, she didn’t need it anyway. The coat was slung up over a low-hanging branch to be retrieved later. Next, Barb quickly rolled her sleeves to her elbows and undid the first couple buttons of her shirt. Straighten up her suspenders. Better. The untied tie had even turned out to be an advantage. 

This felt like progress. She started heading down the path to Pop Village once more, now having the courage to do so. Good thing, too; it was getting dark, and though seeing wasn’t an issue, nighttime brought predators. Her pace became more brisk and she lowered her voice as she started practicing once more:

“Hey, Popcorn, I was wondering if...you’d wanna grab something to eat together?” She mustered her best smile, trying not to think about how messed up it probably looked. “You pick the food joint and...I’ll choose the movie we watch afterward.” 

Whoa. That was kinda slick. Barb’s heart fluttered in her chest and quickly spawned butterflies into her stomach below. Maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. She ambled along (while still keeping pace to get to the village at a safe hour), a smile splitting her face, repeating her pick up line over and over until she felt as though the delivery was just right. All the while, she kept her eyes peeled for something she could use as a gift for Poppy. What did pop trolls like? Sweet stuff, yeah? She could find a beehive to raid...Though, arriving barely conscious with a massive insect’s stinger sticking out of her probably wouldn’t be the best way to greet Poppy. What else…

A splash of color in the darkness caught Barb’s eye. An enormous field of flowers...familiar to Barb as a landmarker. A sign that she was about ten minutes away from arriving at her destination. Though the smell was rather overwhelming to her own senses, Barb knew that an aromatic bouquet was always a safe bet. At least when it came to trolls as colorful and cushy as pop trolls. Barb trotted over, her good ear perked for suspicious noises and head swiveling on her shoulders to keep a look out for any looming shadows. Quickly, she started grabbing up as many flowers as she could, trying to put together a nice rainbow of color for their recipient. The poor things were yanked up right by the roots by the overzealous queen, who had never picked flowers once before in her life. A replantable bouquet. What wasn’t delightful about that?

Clutching her vibrant bundle in a way-too-tight fist, Barb felt her anxiety and anticipation rise more and more with each step. Reminding herself to breathe was a constant, same with the smile that was so wide over her face, her eyes were squinting. She felt... _ confident.  _ She was going to take Poppy on a date. The first date she’d ever been on in her life, and it was with a woman as beautiful and sweet as Poppy...good things come to those who wait, it seemed. 

Before she knew it, the glowing lights of pop village became visible over the grassy slope she’d scaled. Poppy’s deep pink pod, to her relief, had the lights on and shining through her window. A good first step, though it made Barb’s heart start to beat much more frantically in her chest. At least there seemed to be very few other trolls milling around. All in for dinner and pregaming before Friday night partying, she supposed. Everything seemed to be working in her favor for once. 

Barb’s knees trembled as she climbed the steps to Poppy’s front door, sweat already collecting on her brow and clamming her hands. Suave. Be suave. Smooth and slick. Dinner and a movie. Make a joke about eating popcorn at the movie without buying any. Would that be too forward? Would just winking be too much? Wait. What was she supposed to say again?

And just like that, Barb’s nose was an inch away from the fuzzy wooden door. She gave her body a good shake to get the nerves out, accompanied by some quicksteps and a few air punches at an imaginary-

_ “Branch, I…” _

Barb froze mid-uppercut, ears and eyes simultaneously pinpointing where she barely heard Poppy’s voice through the door. Branch?  _ Branch?  _ Holding her breath, Barb shoved her good ear up against the door, eyes darting around as if searching for unattainable (and maybe unwanted) answers. 

_ “I’ve been so unsure...You and me, I felt...said I love you...feel about me?” _

That was Poppy’s voice this time for sure, but Barb could only catch snippets of the murmured sentences. The blood rushing around in her ears nearly made her feel deaf, no matter how hard she strained to catch the conversation inside. 

_ “Poppy, you just...very important...yourself? I care about you...Barb wouldn’t know…” _

Every muscle in Barb’s body tensed to the point where her shaking had become violent. Rage swelled within her so forcefully that she was on the verge of seeing red and breaking the door down like a deranged bull. She wouldn’t know  _ what?  _ What the hell was he doing to her in there? Poppy’s story about Creek came to mind, bringing about an all new surge of anxiety. 

_ “She’s just...not you, it’s...I really feel like I…Branch, I don’t know if...” _

_ “Trust me, she...friends, right? You...best for everyone. You...beautiful, so special…” _

Barb’s heavy breathing nearly made it impossible for her to hear. In fact, she thought for a moment that she was drowning them out completely. She sucked in a shuddering breath to hold and adjusted the placement of her ear on the door, careful to not let her earrings clang against the wood. Silence. Her eyes shifted back and forth in confusion; she pressed further, the fuzz on her cheek now brushing against the door. She heard... _ something... _ it wasn’t voices. Barely audible at all. 

_ “...taste good...sweet.” _

_ “Not bad, Branch...right, just what I needed after…” _

Barb ripped herself away from the door like it had given her an electric shock. They were...no way, they couldn’t have been. No way in hell. Branch wasn’t...he could  _ never _ …

The breath she’d been holding rushed out of her suddenly, tailed by a humiliating sob. Kissing. Poppy and Branch were kissing. Alone, in Poppy’s pod, on a Friday night. Hot tears streamed down Barb’s face faster than she could wipe them away with one unsteady hand. She was too late. She’d waited too long and missed her chance with Poppy. There would be no date. No movie, no dinner, no  _ second  _ date, no first kiss, no Poppy cuddling her close at night, no  _ relationship _ ...and definitely no punk babies to proudly show to her aging father. 

With a strangled cry, Barb hucked the bouquet at Poppy’s door with all her strength, not waiting to watch them explode into a flurry of dirt and petals as she started clamoring down the steps as fast as possible. In her haste to get away before either troll came to see what the commotion was outside, Barb lost her footing on the steps halfway down, sending her painfully head over heels all the way down the mossy stairs until she landed in a heap at the bottom. She didn’t even bother inspecting herself for injuries; just scrambled to her feet and made a beeline for the cover of the inky-black forest. She ran and ran for what felt like hours, barely keeping to the grassy path and shoving brush out of her way, vision blurred with tears and raw emotion. She couldn’t even force a single thought through the bombardment of cruel imagery her mind was forcing on her. Images of Poppy and Branch on the pop queen’s couch, enjoying the bliss of each other’s company as they held each other close and kissed. It made her sick. It made her move at top speed away from it all, pushing her legs to carry her until her lungs burned for oxygen and her bruised body screamed for her to stop before she blacked out from exertion. Only then did she finally slow, breaking into a clumsy jog, then to a staggering walk, before just collapsing against a tree. Her head hung between her outstretched arms, hands gripping the bark of the tree, Barb barely managing to stay standing as she panted like some kind of dog between wracking sobs. 

Poppy had made her choice. 

Barb’s stomach lurched and she gagged violently. 

_ She’d chosen Branch.  _

Another convulsive heave forced her pitiful lunch onto the ground and Barb to one knee. She coughed and retched, shooting pain piercing her gut, her skull and deep into her heart. Her heaves eventually dimmed into raspy sobs. This was a nightmare. Maybe she was asleep. She would’ve given anything to wake up, even to fitfully tearing at her bedsheets and being soaked in a cold sweat. But she wasn’t asleep. Sweat was stinging the cut that split her eyebrow  _ now _ . Her head was spinning and her body was aching. Her throat burned with bile and her smokey eye was running down her face in muddy rivets. She was a disgusting, utter mess...Unloveable before, an appalling disgrace of a queen now. 

A distant rumble did not make Barb straighten from her hunched position. Nor did beams of light bending over her crumpled form. Whatever was coming her way, she welcomed it with passive indifference, too consumed by her own grief to care about any approaching threat. So the rumbling grew louder, the light grew in intensity, and suddenly a voice called clearly through both:

_ “Queen Barb?” _

Oh, God. Barb barely lifted her head enough to look up at Riff, who was staring down at her from a beetle bike in stunned, open-mouthed silence. Shame made her whole body feel as though it was aflame and she moved her gaze downward instantly.

“Jeez, are you okay?” Riff jumped off the critter clumsily in his haste to get to Barb’s side. “What happened? Are you hurt?” As he came up on her, his large nose suddenly wrinkled and he pulled his lips back in involuntary disgust. “...did you throw up?”

“...why are you  _ out  _ here…” Barb choked out after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“I, uh…” Riff swallowed thickly, glancing down the path towards Pop Village. “I...I-I just. Had a funny feeling, or something?”

With no energy left to really care, Barb let Riff’s lame excuse go in one ear and out the other. She just knelt there and continued crying quietly, ignoring Riff altogether. 

“Barb, it’s…” Riff glanced over his shoulder worriedly, hands outstretched as if to help Barb stand, but not quite penetrating the invisible force field that always seemed to be around his queen. “...it’s really not safe to be out here. C’mon, let’s go back to the fortress.” Barb made no move to get up. “...Please?”

His queen sat stagnantly. Riff was panicking now. Poppy must have said no to the date...Barb looked utterly, completely crushed. They really weren’t far from Volcano Rock City at all; if he could just convince her to get on the bike, they could get out of these pitch black woods and he could get her cleaned up a little. Forget his own plans, his queen needed him. Whether she was willing to accept his help or not. 

Overcoming his aversions, Riff hooked an arm around Barb’s waist and slung her arm over his shoulders in one fluid motion. Barb bristled visibly, shooting daggers at him with glowing pink eyes, but put up no real fight as Riff dragged her over to and up onto the critter bike. Once an apathetic arm was wrapped around his middle for stability, Riff shot off for home. The ride was silent other than a few muffled sniffles from Barb. Honestly, Barb was grateful that she wouldn’t have to make the humiliating and possibly dangerous walk through the city in the state she was in. The landscape was now teeming and alive with rock trolls; contact and confrontation would have been unavoidable. Riff showing up had been just about the only stroke of luck she’d been graced with. 

They arrived at the fortress and Riff carefully helped Barb down off the bike, just now noticing her wincing in pain with nearly every movement. He kept his pace slow as he walked with her towards their shared hallway. Didn’t need to rush her, though he did want her comfortable and resting as soon as possible. Now that they weren’t in utter darkness, he could see the cuts and abrasions on her face and arms. Bright pink blood oozed from her busted eyebrow. She wasn’t going to be able to just go straight to bed; she needed some patching up. And probably a minute or so to vent. 

Barb didn’t resist when Riff pulled her gently by the sleeve into his room, her face blank and hollow. Didn’t protest when he sat her on his bed and grabbed an old med kit from the nightstand drawer. Didn’t even flinch when he started to wipe the blood, sweat and ruined makeup from her face with a towelette. 

“...do you wanna talk about what happened?” He whispered cautiously. 

A slow, deliberate blink, the first in what felt like hours to Barb. “...I fell down some stairs.”

Riff winced sympathetically, carefully brushing over a purpling bruise on her forehead. “What about...before that?”

Barb’s lip quivered. 

“...Did it not work out with Queen Poppy?” 

Her eyes snapped up to him, but Riff felt no threat under this gaze. His own eyes peeked out just barely from under his hat to give her a knowing, comforting look. A shudder ran through her, face creased with agony as another bout of sobbing seized her. Some odd instinct gripped Riff and he wrapped Barb up in a tight hug, nose tucked into her trembling shoulder as she wept into his jean vest. A few tears of his own rolled down his cheeks and into her stripe of red hair. Rejection stung, he knew...but this really meant more than that. This had broken Barb. How and when she was going to recover from this...Riff had no idea. So he just held her and let her cry harder and harder. 

“I let him down…” Barb choked out in anguished frustration. “Oh, dad…”

Riff rubbed her back as he shushed her. “Hey, no, no...King Thrash will be fine. You didn’t let anyone down, i-it’s not your fault…”

“She never wanted me...I’m such a  _ moron… _ ”

“You’re not!” Riff pulled away to hold Barb by her shoulders and look her in the eye. “Queen Poppy isn’t endgame, Barb...you’ll find the right person out there. With time.”

This seemed to do the opposite of help; Barb just seemed to wilt even more. “I’ve waited so many years, I…” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat so she could speak without an ache, but failed miserably. 

Riff could feel his own throat tightening with emotion. “I know, I...I can understand wanting something that just feels...impossible.” He moved to sit next to her on the bed, one hand still on her quivering shoulder. “But don’t give up. Maybe there’s just...a misunderstanding. Talk to her about it, maybe? Not right away...when you feel better.”

As much as Barb's desparative state of mind fought against it, Riff’s advice did barely manage to worm its way in and settle as a tiny inkling of hope. She didn’t dwell on it for more than a moment or so, the weight of the evening still dragging her down into a depressive hole that she knew would take more than an intern’s pep talk to dig out of. 

All the while, in Pop Village, Poppy and Branch were trying to figure out who'd interrupted their conversation by flinging dug up flowers at her door. Poppy had felt like she was really starting to make some breakthroughs with all these confusing feelings, and now her train of thought was just completely off track. Branch had vowed to her that he would hunt the troll responsible down, taking it as a definite threat and going off to launch his investigation. He did not promise to return, so Poppy assumed that he wouldn’t. 

So here Poppy was, alone on Friday night in her pod, slouched on the couch with a bag of heart-shaped chocolate from Branch and her head full of thoughts about Barb. While having Branch over had helped work  _ some  _ messier things out, it was not quite obvious to Poppy what she had to do. If anything, she had to swallow her inhibitions and have a real, deep, personal conversation with the rock queen. Not her strongest suit...Just the thought of Barb speaking her honest thoughts and feelings to Poppy, looking her deep in the eyes, maybe holding her hand and sitting close enough that their legs were brushing against one another...it all made Poppy’s insides squirm. Maybe food would calm things down. She reached into the bag of chocolates and pulled out one of the spicy red ones. After a moment of staring at it perched in her fingers, the weirdest tingling on the back of her neck, she bit the heart in half and let it melt against her tongue. The spiciness felt foreign; she savored it for as long as she could, eyes closed and held slightly tilted back. 

Poppy let out a long, low sigh from her nose and cracked her eyes back open. Time to plan a visit to Volcano Rock City. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER SORRY for the giant wait, I ended up splicing this chapter into two parts cuz it was just getting so monumentally long. I've got a lot going on in my personal life (new job, new boyfriend, all that good stuff) that's been taking up most of my time. BUT I'm def not abandoning this fic when it's so close to being finished!! I rly appreciate y'all's patience and I'm gonna beg for a bit more since it's gonna take me longer between updates. 
> 
> ANYWAY hope you enjoy this chapter!! :)c

To say Barb had been wallowing would’ve been an understatement. Just barely was she able to drag herself from the bed she’d decided to rot in to do the bare minimum of her queen duties. Riff, ever loyal, had picked up as much of her slack as he could, even going as far as delivering the weekly royal announcement with the half-truthful explanation of Queen Barb being too ill to do so herself. He did his best to coax Barb out of bed every day for at least a couple bites of food, a glass of water, or a visit with her father. But Barb could barely stand to face Thrash, keeping their conversations short and sweet, even though he had no recollection of his daughter’s promise to him regarding asking Poppy out. The guilt she simmered in every day and night burned under her skin and made it impossible for her to speak to Thrash without feeling like there was venom coating the back of her throat. In short, she was not taking Poppy and Branch’s relationship well. 

Riff was concerned. Beyond concerned, really. Scared. Barb looked _so_ sick and _so_ hurt. She’d even lost her spark of anger, which he’d gladly face if it meant Barb exhibiting some sort of emotion outside of the numb depression seeping from her dull eyes. Her skin was sallow and almost lacking its usual pink hue. Every morning for the past five days or so, he’d nudged himself into her room, the air thick with her despair. She’d be curled into a ball in bed, back to the door, either silently crying or just staring blankly at the wall. And this morning was no different...even though it was almost noon.

“Morning, Queen Barb…” Riff eased the door open and stepped in, his tone gentle and encouraging. “How’d you sleep?”

Barb, mohawk wild and ears so drooped they almost were flat against her face, offered a short, neutral grunt for a reply. Progress. Better than the silence he’d received in the previous days. Riff leaned over the bed to give her a tentative nudge and pulled the blanket back a smidge. 

“I made some blackened bacon and eggs...plenty for both of us if you’re interested?” 

Even more progress: Barb rolled over to give him wide eyes and a tiny nod. 

“O-Okay! Awesome! I’ll give you a minute to get ready.” Riff hurried out of the room before Barb could change her mind.

With the shutting of her bedroom door, Barb rolled over onto her back with a groan. She felt like a slug. A bruised, heartbroken, and oddly ravenous slug. Hard to believe that this was an improvement from the previous few days. The little worm that was Riff’s advice from the other night... _Talk to her about it, maybe? Not right away...when you feel better..._ Seemed as though it had finally burrowed far enough into her brain to make an impact. She couldn’t just lie in bed all day. There were responsibilities that she was neglecting...her kingdom, her dad, Riff...Debbie. Barb sat up and stretched her back, the fuzz on her body bristling as she glanced around for her pet. Probably was with Riff in the kitchen, begging for scraps. The tiniest smile pulled on the corners of her mouth for just a moment. She could start small today. Get back on track and figure out a way to get stuff sorted out with Poppy. Looking like a trainwreck in front of her friend would not help her case. 

While waiting for Barb to join him, Riff had cooked up as much extra food as he could. This was Barb’s first good meal in a while, and could be her only for the whole day, so it was wise to make it count. Hashbrowns, borderline burnt toast, painfully black coffee...Barb wasn’t really one for fruit (just not something rock trolls enjoyed in general), but he diced up some kiwi anyway. 

“Jeez, you’ve been busy.”

“Oh, Queen Barb!” After a small startle, Riff smiled over to the sweatpants-and-tank clad troll, carrying the bowl of fuzzy green fruit over to the well-stocked table. “Yeah, I hope you’re hungry!”

Debbie hissed in the most affectionate way she could manage as she popped out from underneath the table and waddled over to her beloved Barb. She was promptly scooped up and greeted with squeezes and motherly cooing. Barb crossed the room and tucked Debbie up into her hair to let her nest, sitting at the head of the table with considerably less queenly air than she normally would exhibit. She simply slumped into the seat and stared over at Riff with sleep-hazed eyes while he fixed both of them a plate of food. Usually, Barb would be barking at him to hurry up and digging her fork into the table threateningly. But ever since the other night, when Riff had dropped his own plans (whatever they were; he’d never elaborated and she’d never thought to ask) to take care of and comfort her, Barb had done a lot of thinking. Weighed her behavior around the drummer, her treatment of him, his treatment of _her_ despite her returning his kindness with almost nothing but angry outbursts and venomous insults. Really, it wasn’t fair for her to take so much out on someone who really had been nothing but eagerly helpful. It was just...hard to break old habits. More than hard. 

Barb blinked at Riff as he set a full plate in front of her with a tentative smile. “Enjoy, Your Rockness!”

“...Thanks.”

“Hm?” Riff glanced back at her as he sat down in front of his own breakfast, a piece of well-done bacon already halfway to his mouth.

Barb cleared her throat and did her best not to break eye contact with him while she spoke. _“Thank you.”_

She couldn’t see it, but Riff’s eyebrows had shot up to almost his hairline underneath his hat. The last time Barb had thanked him was...Jeez, he wasn’t sure if she ever really had. “Oh, uh...y-you’re welcome!”

She managed to stop herself before she could grumble out a threatening “don’t mention it,” opting to stuff some eggs in her mouth to smother her snark. Still a bit stunned, Riff sat with an open mouth for a moment before filling it with bacon. The day had only started, and it was already a weird one. Better than a bad day, he supposed. 

“What’s on the agenda?” said Barb between bites. 

“Well,” Riff chewed a bit more before swallowing, “...if you’re feeling up for it, your dad wanted to talk to you after breakfast.” 

“...How is he?”

“He’s having a good morning. Chatty and in high spirits.” Barb perked up slightly. “Seemed eager to discuss some kinda important things with you.” And just like that, Barb anxiously crumpled, so the subject was quickly changed. “O-Other than that, most everything’s been finished these last couple days. Announcements are done, there haven’t been any major happenings to check over or report about, so...The day is pretty free. Maybe Debbie could use a, uh…” He thought for a moment, “...W-A-L-K?”

This did make Barb’s mood lighten up once more. “Oh, yeah, she definitely could. I could probably use one too...Nice weather for it, eh?”

A quick glance out the window revealed swirling, dark, brooding clouds hanging over the city. “Yeah, looks perfect out to me!”

“You want the day off? You could, uh…” Barb’s ears folded back with a sheepish shrug. “...get back to whatever you were out doing the other night.”

A heavy blush ran over Riff’s (thankfully barely visible) cheeks and he prayed it wouldn’t travel to his ( _very_ visible) ears. “Oh, uh, thank you! But it was kinda...a planned thing, y’know? Or sort of planned. Maybe more on my end, I don’t think he-”

“Jeez, don’t get in a twist, man. Take the day and do whatever you want.” Barb smiled through her sip of coffee. “You deserve it.”

Riff decided to bar off his rambles and just nodded eagerly. They both ate in silence for a while, save for the occasional raspy squeak from Debbie. Both appeared to be churning in their own thoughts, eyes flicking over to each other occasionally and words on the tips of tongues. The waves of insecurity and guilt coming off of Barb were palpable to Riff, stemming from what he assumed was the prospect of speaking with her dad after their meal. Again, Riff was getting the urge to speak, his discomfort always seeming to manifest into the undying need to chatter.

“Your eyebrow is looking better!” He said with a rather heavy voice crack.

Barb decided to not make fun of him for it and just gave a quick nod. The split there was healing, but would more than likely result in a scar. Just another to add to the list; Barb just wished that not _all_ her face scarring would keep happening in the same section of her face. A cut in the eyebrow was cool, sure, but she really had enough going on with just her ear and the faded gouges on her head. 

“Hey, Barb?”

She looked up with him with both a bit of surprise and challenge. It wasn’t often that he was so casual with her title. 

“You aren’t bad, y’know.” He was expecting an angry glare or a dismissive scoff, but the wide-eyed look of hope he received instead encouraged him to continue. “Like…” An innocent chunk of hashbown was stabbed with his battered and bent fork. “...I dunno. I just hope you know that. People go through stuff, and it can make them seem kinda mean when they try to avoid going through...more stuff.” He shrugged and took a bite. “But I don’t think you’re bad.”

Now Barb’s emotions were _really_ making the air thick. Riff didn’t really mind; he knew she had plenty to process still and she was just a very sensitive troll. Whether she admitted to it or not. He just kept eating, watching her slowly clear her plate and stew over her thoughts while carefully avoiding the kiwi he’d piled on. He knew she’d come around with some reply eventually. Could be in a few minutes, a few days, a couple weeks...

“...Riff.” Hm. Quicker than usual. “...You’re a good cook.” 

Okay, not quite there yet. The drummer smiled at his queen nonetheless. He knew he was decent in the kitchen, and that Barb was maybe substituting “cook” for another word. But he didn’t press; he just stood and went to go put his dish in the sink. 

“You should eat your fruit so your teeth don’t fall out, Your Rockness.”

“I’ll make sure yours _do_ if you ever serve me something nasty like kiwi again, noodle arms.” 

The lack of bite to the threat made Riff look over at Barb with a grin, who was shooting him a playful sneer from over her shoulder. He stuck his tongue out right back and she snorted out a chuckle, pointedly shoving the kiwi in her mouth before turning away again. 

“I hate the skin so much,” Barb grumbled, picking some fuzz out from between her teeth with her fork. 

“Same, but it’s the only fruit we have right now.”

“Maybe I’ll pick some raspberries or something when I go out with Debbie.” Barb cleared her place as she stood, dropping her dishes carelessly in the sink on her way out. “Later, man.”

“See ya!”

As much as Barb wanted to mull over Riff’s unexpected little speech, much of her attention was now being devoted to her unexpected meeting with her father. She truly hoped he was having a day of clarity so she could maybe get a bit of advice. Or maybe let out some confessions. _Something._ Her feet dragged a bit on the way to King Thrash’s room, feeling like she was some sulky teenager again about to get a lecture. Debbie nestled up in her hair did at least offer a bit of comfort. The little bat was eased out of her makeshift nest and hugged close to Barb as she came up on her father’s door, eyes wide and movements a bit timid. 

“...Dad?” Barb called as she knocked gently, not wanting to startle the old man. “It’s Barbara, can I come in?”

“Oh, come right in, pincushion!” His reply was a bit muffled behind the door, but held a steadiness that gave Barb a bit of hope. 

The door was nudged open and there sat Thrash by the foot of the ratty bed in his wheelchair, smiling and bouncing his feet excitedly. “Riff said you wanted to talk?”

“I do! Come sit with your old man, Barbara!” Thrash laughed, scooting over as best as he could in his seat to make room for his daughter. 

Barb happily obliged, squeezing up next to Thrash and draping her legs over his as she leaned into his side. “How’re you feeling today, Dad?”

“I’m just fine; I wanna talk about you! What’s with all these scrapes and bruises? Get in a tussle?” He gave her left arm a gentle pat where some of the purpling was finally starting to fade. “Thought you were over that kind of thing at your age, Barbara.” 

The rock queen let out a tired chuckle. “No fights, just me being clumsy.” She shifted a bit, Debbie still in her arms and head tucked up under Thrash’s jaw. “Do you, uh...remember that thing we talked about? With Queen Poppy?”

“Queen Poppy?” Thrash’s wispy eyebrows lowered as the gears in his head started turning. “Hm...I think I remember you having a bit of a crush on her, right?”

Barb’s sigh of relief was quiet enough that the old king’s deaf ears didn’t catch a thing. “Yeah, yeah.” Debbie was given a light squeeze. “I don’t think she feels the same, though.”

He gave a solemn frown. “What makes you say that?”

“I just...y’know. We’re not compatible, I guess.”

“Barb, you always seem to quit before you even start.” The glower she gave him made Thrash’s lips curl in amusement. “If you really like this woman, at least tell her how you feel. No harm in that.”

There most certainly _was_ harm in that. “No, I-I really can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I still wanna be, like, _friends_ with her…” It was a bit choked out, but still the truth. “Dad, can we talk about something else?”

Thrash looked at her in sad muteness for a bit while Barb firmly avoided eye contact. She didn’t want her father to see her break down; _she_ had to be strong for _him._ It had been a long time since she was a kid. There was no reason for her to be coddled and comforted by her poor, sick father. She could handle her own problems without adding any unnecessary stress to his life that could possibly shorten it. More than anything, she loved her dad.

“Well…” Thrash sighed after what felt like a lengthy ten minutes (when really it was about thirty seconds). “I didn’t bring all that up for nothing...I did want to talk to you about a few things.” His wobbly smile returned as he, with some effort, reached into his hair and pulled out a tattered leather bound book with _Barbara_ embroidered over the front in faded red. 

“Aw, dad, c’mon, baby pictures?” Barb groaned as the old man giggled with glee, forcing her to allow just a half smile. “I’d finally almost forgot about all those!”

He let out a small grunt of amusement as his feeble fingers nudged the book open. “Well, I don’t want to forget.”

The sober and almost fearful twinge to his voice made Barb’s sneer fall away in an instant, but Thrash didn’t notice, too focused on opening the book to the first page: a filmy photo of a deep pink and red ombre egg with a black swirl pattern; unusual coloring for a rock troll egg. A jagged crack split through the middle and a tiny tuft of bright red hair poked out of the top. The egg had been placed carefully on a red velvet pillow for the photoshoot. The simple, handwritten label below was faded, but still legible: _“Princess Barbara.”_

“Remember that? When I first brought you into the fortress as mine, rather than an unexpected guest?”

Barb shook her head as she crossed her arms and rested them on an indifferent Debbie, large eyes studying the familiar picture. “No, I was in the egg.”

“You sure were!” He laughed wheezily. “Dropped off at my doorstep, just when I was getting ready to go to bed. Emphasis on _dropped.”_ He made a motion to the egg’s damage. 

“You think that’s why I am the way I am? Got knocked around in the shell?” She deadpanned, turning the page while Thrash let out a bark of laughter. 

“Maybe! But I wouldn’t have you any other way!” His eyes refocused on the next two pages. “Oh, look at you…” A finger tapped on the photo of a younger, more able King Thrash, grinning with Barb’s egg nestled safely in his hair. “The day you officially became my own. And this one-!” His finger dragged over to a photo of him announcing Barb’s arrival to a sea of cheering rock trolls, mouth open in a joyous roar and horns held high over his egg-holding head, “The whole city was alive for weeks on end knowing there was finally an heir to the rock throne!”

Barb’s ears flattened a bit as she nodded along. The page was turned and a fat little baby Barb stared up at them with wide, bright eyes. Thrash could have been mistaken for a pat of butter in a hot skillet with how much he melted at the memories it brought up. 

“So small...and so round!” He chuckled, hugging Barb a bit closer. “I don’t know how you fit in that little egg!” 

“Mmhm.” She glanced suspiciously up at her dad every so often as he continued to turn pages and gush. This trip down memory lane coupled with the crush talk from earlier...Barb was having difficulty tying the two together. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to interrupt; the memory flexing was good for her father and seeing him smile really did bring warmth to her broken heart. The book went on and on, transitioning from baby to toddler, toddler to scrappy child, then to grumpy preteen, rough-and-tumble teen, up until they reached her eighteenth birthday, just days before her coronation. At that point, Barb decided that she’d seen enough and placed her hand on the book, preventing Thrash from turning the page. 

“Dad, why’d you wanna look at these?” She asked, adjusting her posture to look him in the eye a bit easier. 

His smile didn’t waver as he softly shut the book and held it in his lap. “Barb, do you ever wonder who your birth parents were?”

A question that was out of left field for sure. “Uh...I-I mean, sometimes, but...I don’t need them. I’ve got you, dad.” 

“You do have me.” He glanced at the door, droopy ears perking as much as they could in an attempt to detect any possible eavesdroppers. “Though, I have to admit, I worry that I didn’t always provide you with what they could have.”

“What?” Barb was genuinely taken aback, eyebrows knitting together in bewilderment. “Dad, I don’t-”

“You know what I mean, Barbara.” His voice was hushed. 

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t-”

“Does it affect you that they thought they couldn’t safely raise you because of who they were?” Barb sat, stunned, so he continued. “Is that perhaps a reason why you’re so reluctant with Queen Poppy?”

Barb didn’t like this conversation. Didn’t like how correct her dad was, didn’t like the reminder of what _she_ was, and very much wanted to finally just take Debbie on her walk and forget about this. Her mouth stayed firmly shut as she focused on her fingers twirling through Debbie’s fur. 

“How could I, a rock troll, ever be prepared to know what the needs would be for a pop rock troll?"

_"Dad."_

"No one had ever heard of such a thing until you came along. Many not even until that world tour of yours.”

“What’s your point, dad?” It came out gruffer than she’d intended, but the subject matter wasn’t her favorite. 

Sunken eyes sparkling with pride, Thrash softly placed a hand under Barb’s chin and lifted so she was looking at him once more. “You have started something extraordinary, Barbara. You may not have united everyone under rock, but you were brave enough to challenge a broken way of life all trolls had been following for generations.”

“I almost destroyed all music,” was barely murmured out, weighted with shame.

“You did, yes, but your intentions were true. You wanted to stop the fighting and bring peace to divided trolls.” His eyes nearly disappeared as his smile grew even wider, pushing the skin on his cheeks up. “Now look where we are. Trolls of all genres mingling, befriending one another, making new music...finding love.”

Barb’s throat felt tight; responding felt impossible.

“Imagine, Barb, what this all could have meant for your birth parents had anyone before you been brave enough to take on the challenge you did. Imagine what you and Queen Poppy would have meant to the pop troll and rock troll that fell in love all those years ago, meeting somewhere in the forest and finding themselves with an egg who would change the world one day.” A knitted glove-covered hand patted the baby book fondly. “Not all babies are as lucky as you are, Barbara. I’m so glad that you were delivered to me; you’ve been a joy to raise and to watch as you’ve become a queen for the ages. But this budding love of yours could bring an even better future.”

No pressure. Barb swallowed thickly, not wanting her voice to be choked with too much emotion. “I...Poppy, she…”

“I’m sure you’re not the only pop rock troll out there. Your coronation may have... _encouraged_ some to go into hiding-” Barb’s visible flinch made Thrash’s heart ache. “-but that could all change very quickly. The queen of pop and the queen of rock, ruling together…”

“Dad, I don’t even think she sees me as more than a friend.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

Had she? Technically not. “...No, but, she and Br-”

“Y’know, I’d like to be around to see you make history a second time,” he chuckled with a playful nudge to Barb’s arm. “You mind hurrying things along here?”

Though her eyes held exhaustion, Barb still split her face into a grin, more for him than herself. “I, uh...I gotta think about things. I’m gonna take her for a walk,” Barb gestured to Debbie, whose wings were already fluttering and eyes darting around at the mention of a walk, “...and make a plan. Does that get me off the hook for now?”

“Oh, I suppose,” Thrash sighed sarcastically as his daughter stood up from his chair, clinging to an increasingly frantic Debbie. “Take the poor creature out before she loses it and wrecks the place. It’s a totally sick day outside, after all.”

A glance out of the king’s dingy window showed that the clouds had grown darker and heavier during their conversation. “Yeah, it is nice out. Better not miss it. See ya, man.” With that, Barb gave his wide head a side hug and hurried out of the room to fetch Debbie’s harness. “Maybe go for a roll around the block yourself!” She called over her shoulder.

“I just might!”

\---

The nearly black clouds above Poppy’s head were, to say the least, rather intimidating. It had just been the most gorgeous sunny day in Pop village, but as soon as she passed a delightful looking field of flowers, the sky had steadily become a gradient into a moody and rumbling grey. It was obvious it was going to pour soon; the pink queen picked up her pace and walked as best as she could against the gusting wind. 

Volcano Rock City wasn’t that far at all, so she thought it would be nice to take the journey on foot. Completely unprepared and empty-handed. Branch would be disappointed. Good thing he’d never know about this visit. Barb wasn’t exactly his favorite person to talk about, evident in their recent conversation...She could picture his fallen face clearly in her mind when she said she wanted to talk to him about the rock queen. Insistent would be a gentle way to put how he’d spoken to her. Paranoid as ever, Branch had no trust for Barb. Very much believed that she was a short-sighted ruffian that had only her own needs in mind. 

Poppy had ignored him, of course, because that was completely untrue. 

Don't get her wrong; she’d listened to him (it was something she was working on very diligently, listening more), but she also knew that he didn’t know Barb like she did. He’d never seen Barb’s soft side. Her vulnerable and sheepish colors. Not once had he taken the time to talk with her about things they might even have in common, like playing the guitar or having a history of isolation. Would probably be better to start with guitar talk. But Poppy knew, overall, that Barb held more than what met the eye, but she couldn’t completely discredit Branch. They had made some light breakthroughs together regarding some confusing feelings on both ends. That was definitely a weight off her own shoulders, but Poppy definitely felt as though the swirling emotions inside of her wouldn’t be settled until she’d had a direct confrontation with Barb. Not a mean one; one full of hugs and hand-holding and probably tears. Nothing wrong with a good cry session between friends. Barb had a lot of _stuff_ pent up, Poppy could tell. It was only healthy to let it out with a fellow queen...someone Barb could relate to and trust. Did she trust Poppy? Hopefully. Definitely would by the time she’d be heading back to the village tonight. 

Giddiness adding a literal skip to her step, Poppy bounced along, her thoughtful silence turning into humming. That quickly turned into murmuring the lyrics to _My Funny Valentine_ , and eventually devolved into enthusiastic belting towards the stormy sky. Ballads like that weren’t usually, her go-to, but it was the first song that came to mind. Seemed as good a time as any to branch out into different music. 

Unbeknownst to Poppy, just on the outskirts of the city she was headed to, Barb was out walking with Debbie. Or, really, Debbie was taking Barb for an erratic jog. It seemed as though the bat had been cooped up for far too long in the fortress and was dying to give her wings a good stretch. Barb, clinging to her leash, allowed herself to be dragged along. As long as Debbie was happy...she really owed it to the little bat after basically neglecting her for the past week. Had it not been so obvious that a raging storm was set to drop that night, she would’ve just let Debbie loose to get all her zoomies out. 

“Okay, o-okay girl, just-” Not even digging her heels into the dirt could stop Debbie from dragging Barb through the bushes and into the forest. _“Okay,_ easy, _easy!”_

But Debbie had no intentions of going easy, squawking and shrieking as she chased some invisible target through the woods. 

Poppy thought for a moment that she’d heard some kind of rustling in the brush a ways ahead of her, but got distracted by something with a small sheen hanging in a tree. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was someone’s suit jacket. Torn, dusty, and apparently abandoned. It was lifted off the branch carefully with her hair and inspected for any clues as to who the owner was- a name tag on the collar, a note in the pocket- but there was nothing. So, with a shrug, the coat was folded neatly and tucked into her hair as she continued on her way. It was already early afternoon and she didn’t want to get caught in the dark heading home. Barb would probably know the jacket’s owner.

Before long, Volcano Rock City’s looming form edged over the hill Poppy trekked. The soft, familiar grass beneath her feet faded gradually into dusty, ash-covered rock, and the wind blew fiercely over the barren land. Trees were far and few between on the outskirts, and those who had bravely rooted in the crumbling earth barely had any leaves to show for it. As Poppy crossed over the outskirts onto the bare lava rock, she noticed with surprise that many of the city’s residents were out and about on such a horrid day. Though the troll kingdoms had made peace, Poppy couldn’t stop herself from feeling a touch apprehensive when her very bright pink, very starkly contrasted, very obvious self became noticed by many (now glaring) rock trolls. Maybe floating in on Sheila B. would’ve been a better idea...but a giant flowery hot air balloon wasn’t exactly inconspicuous either. She swallowed thickly and marched on, set for the fortress looming within the volcano, a defensive smile stretched over her face. She was outwardly confident, sure, but to have so many distrustful, grouchy faces staring at you when you were used to cheery greetings...it was a lot to take in. Normally, Barb would meet her on the outskirts to take her to the fortress herself on a beetle bike. Poppy always thought it was weird and maybe overly protective, but now...

“Well, if it isn’t Queen Poppy!”

She let out a squeak of surprise and turned mid-jump to see the comforting crooked smile of King Thrash. “Oh! Yeah, gosh, hi!” She trotted right up to him, thankful for the safety he brought. “Going for a midday roll, Your Majesty?” 

“I am! Have to enjoy nice days like these when they come, eh?” He ducked his head slightly in respect, which was returned by Poppy. “What brings you all the way from Pop Village?”

“I’m here to see Queen Barb!” It bubbled up out of her before she could stop herself, but the suspicion she was expecting didn’t come; rather, Thrash looked delighted. 

“Oh, well, rock on! Come with me, I’ll escort you to the fortress. Barb will be back from her walk in a short while.” He turned his chair and began rolling off.

Poppy gladly followed along. “Oh, thank you…” She chuckled. “I really didn’t wanna go by myself...No offense to you or your people, of course, they just seem...uh…”

“I understand. Not to worry, Queen Poppy.” He gave a group of gawking rock trolls a firm, grisled stare and they almost immediately turned away. “...They know better than to try anything.”

“Oh.” Poppy blinked as she made the quick decision to not press the old man for details. She just firmly glued a hand to an armrest and kept pace with the rickety old chair. 

As they grew closer to the volcano, Poppy _really_ started to feel the heat radiating off of it. Sweat started to mat her bangs to her head and she tried to keep her dry throat clearing quiet enough to not be heard. No need to be rude in someone else’s kingdom. Poppy had only visited once or twice, and the climate always took her by surprise. Was it _always_ hot like this? She thought she’d just been unlucky before. How did the rock trolls not boil alive in all their denim and leather? Just her little wool dress felt like a portable sauna. Sure, it had been scorching that time she’d been forcibly delivered to Volcano Rock City, but she had at least had enough adrenaline pumping in her veins at the time to make it not so noticeable. Right now, just a couple hundred yards away from the roiling rock mound, she felt like she was melting into a little pink puddle. 

Much to Poppy’s relief, they took a sudden detour that led them down into an underground tunnel. The air was almost instantly cooler and she sucked in as many deep breaths as she could. No telling if the royal fortress would be as tolerable as this. 

“So, what brings you to the city?” Thrash asked one more. 

Poppy was about to point out that she’d answered already, but then caught herself. “Just here to visit Queen Barb.”

“Oh, she’ll be delighted to see you.”

That was reassuring, at least. 

The further down into the rocky tunnel they went, the darker and more spooky it became, and the tighter Poppy’s hand clung to Thrash’s armrest. How the old man had no problems seeing in the dark, Poppy didn’t understand, but she was pretty much blind and at his mercy when it came to their destination. Pop trolls weren’t quite built for darkness; Any parties going on at night were accompanied by generous fireworks, glowbugs, string lights, and glitter trolls reflecting brightly as makeshift disco balls. It was a well-known fact that darkness brought predators, and trolls were considered nothing less than a sweet treat. Maybe it was just Branch rubbing off on her, but Poppy was starting to feel paranoia creep up on her shoulder as the tunnel wound on. He’d definitely slap together some sort of light for the journey. He was handy like that. And then he’d scold her for not bringing her own, because he was annoying like that. What would Barb say about Poppy not having a light? She doubted the rock troll would need one, given the fact that her genre of troll seemed well suited to the darkness (not to mention those big peepers probably gave her an extra advantage). Would Barb just silently lead her on? Probably would give her a few playful verbal jabs and maybe a snarky speech on rock trolls’ superior evolution. The thought made a smile involuntarily spread over Poppy’s lips. 

Thankfully, it was only another minute or two before a light finally started to shine at the end of the tunnel. Poppy squinted heavily as they emerged into the fortress hallway, trying to adjust back to the light. She was delighted that, though it was still warm, the air wasn’t anywhere near stifling. 

“Please, make yourself at home, Queen Poppy,” Thrash said as he smiled through a yawn. “I’m due for my afternoon nap...Barbara will be back shortly to greet you. Her room is down this hall; the one with the steel door.” He pointed off to his left, towards the hall that housed Barb and Riff’s rooms. 

With that, he rolled away, chuckling a bit to himself and leaving Poppy to swing her head back and forth like a pendulum as she took in her surroundings. As badly as she wanted to snoop around, she knew that Barb was a woman of privacy and wouldn’t be too keen on Poppy prancing about in her home. She’d really only hung out with Barb in the throne room, and was never left on her own to her own devices. Though she wanted to roam around and stick her nose into every little crevice, she knew that her hostess would not appreciate it in the slightest. Getting kicked out would not be helpful to Poppy’s mission of communication. So, Poppy settled for Barb’s room; that sounded plenty interesting. Her footfalls echoed down the hall, unwatched, as she was too busy staring at the patterns in the leather and obsidian walls. The black rock reflected a rather monstrous version of herself back to her, mixed in with scratches and deep cracks. The leather that had somehow been sewn into the stone floors and walls in odd patches looked brittle and worn with age, stained here and there with greasy palm prints and other mysterious substances. Poppy took care to weave her steps around the messes as best as she could, but she was a bit unsteady with her footing with how eerie this place was suddenly getting. 

“Hey!” 

With the tension that had been building inside of her, Poppy couldn’t help but let out a shriek, jumping into the air and frizzing her hair out defensively. When she finally honed in on the source of the stern voice, she saw Barb’s assistant (...or her drummer?) standing outside his own doorway, mouth pulled into a confused frown.

“Oh, hi!” She said through a breath of relief. “Riff, right? Is this Queen Barb’s room?” She asked, pointing to the steel door a few steps ahead between them.

Riff glowered through his hat, one gloved hand balled into a fist, the other clenched on his doorframe. “Why do you wanna know?...What are you doing here?”

The distrust and borderline anger in his voice flew right over Poppy’s smile-plastered head. “Just visiting!”

The dull purple troll tensed. This pop troll had some nerve showing up out of the blue after what she did to Barb. He was tempted to throw her out; kick her to the curb before Barb caught a glimpse of any pink and spiralled back down into her depression. The awkward silence that brewed with Riff’s thoughts didn’t seem to phase Poppy in the slightest, who just started rocking on her heels as she waited for Riff to offer some kind of response. Barb often did something similar: taking long pauses in the conversation to form her words carefully. Poppy figured this must just be normal for rock trolls.

“How’d you get in?” There it was.

“King Thrash brought me in!”

Taken aback, Riff’s jaw dropped slightly as his whole form seemed to flinch away in confusion. Then, it clicked. Thrash...he wanted to talk to Barb earlier. Maybe the old ruler had planned something with the two queens? Or he and Barb had invited Poppy purposefully? He was starting to grow embarrassed at his cold disposition towards Poppy. 

Bristling distrust smoothing into sheepish fidgeting, Riff’s hands slumped down in front of him. “Oh, okay, well, uh...Yeah, that’s her room. Let me know if you need anything, I guess.” 

With a bounce of her eyebrows and some finger guns, Poppy turned to start the task of pulling the heavy door open enough for her to squeeze through.

“W-Wait!”

The pop queen stopped short and glanced back over to Riff, who was now fiddling with his fingers with his head slightly bowed. 

“Uh…” Riff cleared his throat roughly to avoid any pesky voice cracks. “Y-You know Branch, right?”

“Oh, totally!” Poppy said with a cheerful nod. 

“Is he...uh…” The fluttering in his chest was making breathing a hassle. “D-Do you know what his favorite, uh...favorite food is?”

Poppy scoffed with a playful wave. “Uh, yeah, of course! Roasted acorns and mayo!” 

Riff’s large nose wrinkled. “Really?”

A slightly solemn nod. “Branch is a cool guy, but between you and me...that palate of his kinda sucks.” 

With that, Poppy shoved the door open and let herself inside, leaving Riff in the hall to process this slightly gross information. 

Though Poppy had had a few speculations as to what Barb’s room would look like, it truly did exceed her expectations of grime and dust. It was a large room with not much of the leathery floor visible, lit only by some weak rays of light coming through the tiny open window by the bed. Poppy inched carefully over to Barb’s nightstand, where the crooked old lamp let loose a filmy yellow light with a tug of its chain. The bed that Poppy’s leg barely brushed against did not look comfortable in the slightest. Her fears were confirmed when she tentatively gave it a sit. Lumpy, hard, and creaky as anything. No wonder Barb was so grumpy; who could ever get a good night’s sleep on this thing? Couldn’t a queen get a decent bed? Even the tattered old sheets were rough and unpleasant to the touch, and the stained comforter felt coarse. The pillows...Poppy shuddered and pushed herself up off the bed. She didn’t want to judge, but, man...it would take a lot of her to lay her head on one of those musty things. It was fairly obvious to Poppy now where the room got most of its odd smell.

As she wandered around more, Poppy started picking out pieces to a Barb puzzle amongst the clutter. Empty bottles of all sorts were scattered around, some smashed and swept away up against the wall where they would (hopefully) do no harm to any bare feet. The axe guitar that was quite familiar to Poppy was hung proudly on the wall by the door, ready to be grabbed on the way out. Other guitars were laying here and there. Some smashed, some looking fairly abandoned, some weirdly tiny and trolling-esque. A mountain of old amplifiers sat in the far corner, ranging from barely recognizable as a box to relatively new, depending on where they sat in the stack. Other than that, there were some more traditional bedroom items: A large closet with some dirty clothes leading up to its doors, a full-length mirror full of greasy smudges, a meager desk and chair that looked like it and the layer of dust on it had been untouched for years, and a small door that Poppy assumed led to the bathroom. Boy, that room was sure to be a nightmare. Dare she even investigate? Poppy was still pondering as she almost automatically went right over to the splintery door and tugged it open. 

To Poppy’s bewildered delight, the bathroom actually looked...nice. The stone walls were shiny, all of Barb’s products were tidy, there was no sign of mold or mildew...did Barb even use this room? Maybe not. Maybe the toilet was busted, or the shower stuck on ice-cold. Definitely something to ask Barb about later. 

During her retreat from the bathroom, an odd glimpse of color caught Poppy’s eye amongst all the black, grey, red and murky purple. A bit of green was sticking out from Barb’s mattress. At first, Poppy worried that maybe the bed was growing a moss or some fungus, but a cautious inspection proved otherwise. It was just a bit of cloth; a corner to some kind of garment. Poppy curiously gave it a tug, and more green was revealed. A heart yank, and the whole thing came free. 

“Oh!” Poppy exclaimed as she held it out in front of her. “...my cape?”

What was this doing here? She’d wondered where it went...must have left it in the throne room by accident months ago. Even so, why had it made its way to Barb’s room...by her bed? Maybe she’d stashed it there for safe keeping and just kept forgetting to return it? That must be it. Eyebrows furrowed, Poppy carefully laid the cape on the bed. The slight breeze blown by the fabric’s placement made something else catch Poppy’s eye: a small scrap of paper, half-heartedly tucked under a pillow. 

\---

Barb dragged her feet as she plodded through the tunnel to home, just as exhausted as Debbie after what felt like a ten mile sprint through the forest. All she wanted to do was get her aching muscles under a hot shower and crawl into bed for a nap. The sweat on her body felt grossly sticky and stung in the scrapes and cuts she’d earned after being dragged through the brush by a way-too-eger Debbie. Said bat was nestled in her hair once more, panting as much as the troll beneath her. She could definitely use a nap, too. 

Thunder rumbled above ground and Barb felt somewhat soothed. Nothing like a nice storm to lull you to sleep. A solid two-hour nap would ease her right into dinner time, and then she’d do something productive for sure. Something with minimal movement, though. As wrecked as her body felt, her mood had at least lifted somewhat. Didn’t have much time to think about crushing rejection when all her focus was on staying on her feet and not letting go of her bat’s leash. Couldn’t get distracted by mental images of warm smiles, bright fuschia eyes, silky soft hair...Barb shook her head curtly and was met with an indignant squeak from Debbie. No need to get all that going. Just get to bed.

Barb didn’t even really register emerging from the tunnel or trudging down the hall towards her room. Her body just moved itself along as she picked leaves and twigs from her hair and fishnets. Maybe it would be more relaxing to take a bath. A bit risky...there definitely was the possibility of her falling asleep during. Decisions, decisions. Barb almost smirked at herself as she started prying off her wristbands with her teeth and undoing her belt once she’d passed Riff’s room. Hands busy, she shoved her back against the door to swing it open and pivoted around to finally face the solace of her room. 

_“There_ you are!”

“HOLY-” Barb nearly swallowed the wrist band in her mouth in both shock and horror at the familiar voice. Once she’d managed to spit it out, the only word she could choke out was _“P-Poppy?”_

Sat cross-legged on her bed, Poppy beamed up at Barb. “Surprise!” Her arms were thrown out to her sides as if her plan was to scoop the stunned troll up into a hug. “How was your walk?”

The question flew into one ear and right out the other as Barb frantically fixed her belt. _“Why are you in my room?”_

“Your dad told me to come in here to wait for you.” Poppy stretched her legs out in front of her and held a crumpled piece of paper in front of her face that made Barb’s stomach flip. “You never told me you liked to write!”

“Gimme that!” Barb launched herself over to Poppy, who giggled as she planted a foot in Barb’s torso to keep the frantic troll’s grasping fingers at bay.

_“‘If the sun should set on us, I hope the moon will continue to shine down on you and adopt you into the sky. I want to watch your beautiful constellation flow amongst the stars and feel your happiness, perhaps reviving my own...’_ Barb, this is so beautiful!” Poppy wailed, feigning tears as she threw her head back. 

“STOP! Don’t read it, don’t- Debbie, get it! Get it!” Barb begged, but all the tired little bat did was tumble out of her hair and onto the bed with a squawk. 

“Awww, Debbie!” Poppy squealed, forgetting the poem in favor of snatching the fuzzball up. “Who’s a pretty girl…” 

Barb collapsed down onto Poppy and scrambled over her to grab the poem, only to be frozen at the sight of the cape draped behind her on the bed. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry, throw up, or dissolve into thin air. Poppy was going to think she was a freak. Why didn’t she just get rid of that dumb cape the minute she saw it in the throne room? Why didn’t she just return it?

A small nervous chuckle from below her wrenched Barb from her panicked thoughts. “Hey, you okay? You look all shell-shocked.” Poppy’s eyes scanned over Barb’s face and form briefly. “Kinda look like you got in a fight, too.” 

Barb’s clenched jaw shifted as she tried to think of a response. “D-Debbie is...a leash puller.” 

“What about the bruises?” Poppy reached up to touch Barb’s mottled arm, causing the rock troll to become aware of their awkward positioning and throw herself backward away from Poppy, paper and cape in hand. “Oh, and thanks for hanging onto my cape! I was wondering where it went!”

Grip tightening on the fabric protectively, Barb once again leaned away from Poppy’s outstretched hand. “Um...I should wash it first.” Her brain felt like it was being put in a blender with how all over the place Poppy was being; she could barely keep up with all the subject changing. 

Poppy just shrugged and reached again. “I don’t mind washing it.” When Barb still didn’t let go after Poppy had the cape in her grasp, her eyebrows lowered and the corners of her mouth rose in amused confusion. “Barb, what’s the matter?” She asked through a nervous chuckle. 

Lots. Lots was the matter. Poppy appearing in her home out of nowhere, Poppy being in her bed and reading half-written, nasty, sappy poetry that thankfully doesn’t mention any names, Poppy finding the cape that she’d stupidly left hanging out from under the mattress...and this was all in the first two minutes of Barb coming home, sweaty and sore. She was making a total fool of herself. 

“Barb…?”

_“Listen-”_ the cape was yanked out of Poppy’s hand and the pink troll looked rather shocked. “I don’t know why you’re here, but this isn’t really a good time.”

Poppy opened her mouth just before thunder clapped outside, making both trolls jump. “I-I wanted to talk to you about some stuff. Important stuff. And not important like queen stuff, important like...you and me.” Lightning flashed through the window, silhouetting Poppy and illuminating Barb’s wide-eyed expression eerily. “...but I still wanna know what happened to make you all beat up!”

“I told you, Debbie pulls.”

“But what about this?” Poppy leaned forward, hand cupping Barb’s cheek to allow her to run a thumb over the scabbed split in Barb’s eyebrow. “This is kinda healed?”

“For rock Gods’ sake, Poppy…!” Barb hissed as she jerked away from Poppy’s touch. “You never heard of a mosh pit or anything?”

“I hope you at least got a kiss where it hurt after,” Poppy cooed, puppy dog eyes wide with sympathy. 

_“What?”_

“I’ll kiss it!” 

“POPPY-” Thunder boomed again and the fortress shook, jolting both trolls out of their thoughts. The storm was going to hit any second and leave Poppy stuck in the city with Barb. A sleepover. Just as she’d originally planned so many weeks ago. Had this been before Barb had caught Poppy and Branch smashing faces through the door, Barb might’ve actually been excited. But now...This screamed nothing but trouble. And not the good kind. Poppy had to go.

“C’mon,” Barb grumbled, grabbing Poppy by the wrist and tugging her over to the door. “If you get caught in that storm, you’re done for. Where’d you park?”

“I walked!”

“You _what?”_

“-and I’m not leaving!” Her arm easily slipped out of Barb’s sweaty grip and Poppy jumped back before Barb could wrangle her again. “We really need to talk, Barb!”

Only for a moment did Barb actually consider letting Poppy stay. “I-I’ll give you a ride back, then. If we take my beetle bike-”

“Barb, you’re not listening!” Another flash of lightning and an angry rumble of thunder. “Don’t you care about our relationship? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Barb’s eyebrows lowered into an offended scowl. “There’s a time and place, Poppy, and you randomly appearing in my bedroom isn’t either!”

“Please, Barb, just hear me out-”

“If you wanna get back safe-”

“I really care about us-”

“I swear Poppy, stop talking-”

“Please, just _listen-!”_

“THE STORM IS GONNA HIT ANY-”

And just like that, an almost deafening clap of thunder opened the sky and released a torrent like none other. Barb let out a frustration-filled groan as she rushed over to shut her window, struggling against the wind until Poppy jumped to her aid. Once it was finally shut and latched, the glass shuddering as it was battered with the heavy rain, Barb stared out of it in defeated disbelief. 

“Well...looks like you’re stuck with me now,” Poppy said with a signature cheeky grin and a wink. “Sleepover time! Oh, we can make this one even better than the last...We can tell each other spooky stories since your room is so creepy, and give _Debbie_ makeovers, finally have that heart-to-heart I was talking about-”

The steady thudding of Barb’s forehead being smacked into the glass was going unnoticed by Poppy, who was too busy listing off all the plans she had for the both of them. This was really happening. They were trapped in the fortress until the storm let up, and who knows when that would be? Tomorrow? Two, three days? Torture. Pure torture. 

“I need a shower,” she finally hissed through gritted teeth, trudging away from Poppy without looking over at her. “Don’t go snooping around in anything else!” 

Not even minding that her idea for them to make homemade pizza together had been interrupted, Poppy just snickered and jumped back onto the bed. “Nooo promises!”

The rock queen glowered at her unwelcome guest from the bathroom doorway for a moment before crossing the room to the exit. _“RIFF!”_ She bellowed, summoning the lanky troll in an instant from his room. “Get in here and keep an eye on Queen Poppy. She’s...she’s staying till the storm passes.”

Though the request was definitely odd, Riff trotted over and followed Barb back into her room, almost laughing at the sight of Poppy’s casual stance on the bed compared to Barb’s tension. He sat across from Poppy gingerly, acknowledging her greeting with a quick wave while watching Barb clumsily grab some clean clothes from her closet and rush into the bathroom. His previous theory of Barb inviting Poppy over with Thrash has officially been squashed. However, it was still very possible that this was all part of some sort of plan from the old king. He kind of really hoped it was; it all seemed just a little too perfect. Poppy sure looked smug about the whole thing, lying back on the bed and playing with a very sleepy Debbie. Was fate a thing? If Thrash had nothing to do with this, to call it a coincidence just seemed too easy. Riff sighed as he propped his elbows onto his knees. Would be nice to have some coincidences of his own.

“Is she usually so uptight?” Poppy asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Riff shrugged. “Uh...sometimes. Lately, for sure.” He kept his voice hushed. The last thing he needed was for Barb to hear them gossiping about her. 

“Aw, rough week?”

“You could say that.”

Poppy let out a heavy sigh as she nodded in understanding. “Mine’s been kinda crazy, too. Lots of feelings and stuff I’ve been trying to work out, y’know?”

Now it was his turn to nod. “Oh, yeah, I can relate.” 

They sat without speech for a moment, listening to the rain pelt the roof and the shower water hit the tub. 

“Hey, Riff?”

The sudden anxiety in Poppy’s voice made him turn fully to face her. “Hm?”

“...Do you think...Barb likes me?” 

The question was almost comical. “Oh, for sure.”

“Really? ‘Cause I really can’t tell sometimes. She’s so much like Branch that way; cold one minute, warm the next...so hard to read! And I really suck at picking up hints so it’s even harder. Like, just say what you mean, right?”

Riff just nodded along, taken aback by the sudden gush of inner thoughts. 

Poppy seemed to catch herself though, letting out a deep breath before glancing over at the drummer. “Y’know, I think you’d like Branch. He’d probably like you, too! You've got a few things in common. Big purple nose, rad identity stuff, close with your queens...”

The deep purple that raced across Riff’s face was barely hidden by his hat. “He, uh...yeah, he seems cool. I mean, from what I’ve seen of him. Wouldn’t mind seeing more- I-I mean, like-”

“We should all hang out as a group sometime!”

The eager nod he gave nearly threw his beanie right off his head. “That sounds totally sick.”

“Maybe we could all go mini golfing!”

What the hell was mini golf? “Uh...sure, Your Highness.” 

“It could be kinda a double-date thing!” 

Riff recoiled. “Uh, Queen Barb and I aren’t...we’re both, uh...you know…” He let his wrist fall limp and his shoulders rise with suggestion. 

“Well, _duh,”_ Poppy laughed. “I meant like...a friend-date!”

“So. Hanging out?” 

“Well, that just sounds boring.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, though his mind and heart were racing a bit at the thought of a double date. Though, the pairing might’ve been a bit different from what Poppy might’ve had in mind. Maybe this was something he could bring up to Barb later...

Unbeknownst to them, Barb had yet to get in the shower, letting the water run as she sat by the door with her good ear pressed to the wood. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were peeled wide as she tried to process what she could hear. Riff’s side of the conversation was harder to make out, but Poppy was loud as ever. Friend-dates...did that mean her and Branch _weren’t_ a couple? She’d bit her nails to the nubs at the thought, trying to work out in her mind how she could figure this out for sure without coming off as blunt and desperate. Not much was coming to her at that moment. What could help with that? A shower.

Grudgingly, Barb pushed herself away from the door and started to remove her sweat-dampened clothes. If Poppy and Branch weren’t together...if she could confirm that it was all just something she misheard that night...this impromptu sleepover could be her chance. An almost wicked grin split Barb’s face as she stepped into the shower, already working out a plan. Poppy wanted to talk? Oh, they’d talk. Barb was gonna make her feel so comfortable and at home, she’d get that pink troll talking until she spilled every bit that Barb wanted to hear, and then some. She’d be the royal therapist for the night. Ears wide open. This was going to be the sleepover of her life. For Poppy, Barb would make it happen. For her dad...she would make something come of this weird twist of fate. 

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Barb could hear Poppy call through the door. “How’re we gonna get anything going if you spend the whole night in there?”

Barb scoffed to herself. “Just a sec, cakepop!” 

You couldn’t rush secret-spilling schemes. Especially not ones of these proportions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW i love inserting my headcanons into my fics lol
> 
> comments n kudos much appreciated!! next chapter coming asap!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG THANKS to everyone who's been so patient!! Sorry life got so in the way, but you guys have been so sweet with all the nice comments and messages eager for the next chapter!! AND ALL THE REALLY CUTE FANART u guys...u make my day ;v; I really hope u enjoy!
> 
> PLEASE before u read, listen to this song, it's included in this chapter and I think the emotion and pacing in the scene will come across much better if u have a listen! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdbzE68Nyzg
> 
> again, thanks for sticking around!! enjoy the parb!

Riff and Poppy, stretched out on the bed, had long fallen into comfortable silence as they waited for Barb’s shower to end. The rock queen was taking her sweet, scrubby time, and Poppy was using that as an opportunity to mull over the discovery of Barb’s love poem. For one, it was adorably unexpected for Barb to be a poet in general. But a  _ love  _ poem...who was she writing that for? Was Barb in love? In a budding relationship? With who? And  _ why _ hadn’t she told Poppy about this. They were besties, weren’t they?

Poppy heaved a sigh towards the ceiling, adjusting her sprawled-out position on the bed. Then again, the poem did seem sad...Maybe Barb was just crushing on someone hard. Or had been turned down? Poppy really couldn’t imagine rejecting a queen like Barb, but it was a possibility. Poppy had to know. The thought of Barb being in love with someone Poppy didn’t know ate her up in a way that wasn’t quite familiar to her. Made her shift about and tug at the strap on her dress. She wanted answers...and there was no better time than a sleepover to get them. 

Poppy glanced over at Riff as she moved to fiddle with her fingers instead of her clothes, wondering how he was processing the odd situation. He was just laying there on his back, hands thudding a little beat on his belly and chest, the bottoms of his eyes poking out just barely. Poppy couldn’t tell if the drummer was also running through some thoughts or if that head of his was just about empty. 

“Hey, Riff?” Poppy finally whispered. 

He turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, but kept quiet. 

“This is gonna sound probably kinda weird, but...do you know any...uh...‘tricks’ with Barb?” She sort of half-shrugged as she spoke, unsure of her own wording. 

Riff thought for a moment. “Uh...I’ve seen her do a headstand before.”

Poppy blinked. “No, no, not if she knows tricks, like...do you know any ways that help her kinda relax a little? Maybe get her to drop the iron-fist, stone-cold facade? ‘Cause I know she for sure has a soft heart in there, amiright?” 

A corner of his mouth pulled upward as he nodded. “Oh, for sure. She kinda just...needs a minute sometimes. Don’t push her too much, she might snap and then it’ll be a week or two before she can chill out again. Let her kinda spill stuff on her own.”

Well, that sounded way more out of her control than Poppy liked. “Okay...I just  _ really  _ need to talk to her about some stuff, and I don’t want her all clammed up the whole time I’m here, y’know?”

“Trust me, Your Highness, this is the way Barb ticks.” Riff pulled his legs up, bent knees tapping together rhythmically. “I’ve been around her long enough to figure that out.”

Another sigh from the pink troll. “...How long have you two known each other anyway?”

He took a moment to count on his fingers. “Uh...I dunno, I’ve been her intern for like...three years? And known  _ of  _ her for way more than that. ‘Cause she’s the queen and everything.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Poppy chuckled. “That’s a long time! What was she like back then?”

Riff’s expression tightened a bit. “Pretty different. I mean, kinda. Even more angry, if you can believe it, but like...she tried to be friendlier?”

“Whoa, really?”

“Yeah. It was weird. She would try really hard to get someone to like her and it would just blow up in her face. They’d push her away, she’d have an outburst, she’d hole herself up alone for a good while, and it would sorta just repeat. After a while, she just...stopped? Kinda. She still tries to act cool and pretend like she has friends, but she never really gets on that ‘friend’ level with anyone. Sometimes it kinda just seems like she doesn’t even know how rock trolls are supposed to act.” Riff scratched at the handful of dark hairs on his chin. “Not that I’m ragging on her or anything. Barb has just always been weird.”

Poppy had to admit, this was kinda breaking her heart. “Wow...is that why no one came to her coronation ceremony? They just thought she was weird?”

Riff’s nose scrunched in confusion as he turned towards Poppy more fully. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Her coronation?” Now Poppy was the one confused. “No one showed up, right?”

“Who told you  _ that?”  _

“Uh, Barb?” 

“That’s my name!” Barb said with a barkish laugh as she swung the bathroom door open, startling both trolls before her as it slammed against the stone wall. “Better not wear it out!” 

Barb’s odd mood swing and Riff’s muddying of Poppy’s understanding of the coronation had left her starkly bewildered now. Barb, in an oddly casual outfit that consisted of ripped up, dark grey jeans and a tucked-in flannel shirt (that had had the sleeves ripped off and was missing several of the top buttons, Poppy noticed), had a grin on her face that would’ve read as devious to practically any other troll. Poppy, on the other hand, found it all rather striking. Which, she admitted to herself, was kinda weird. 

“Thanks for babysitting, dude. You can go back to having your day off now,” Barb said as she waved Riff off, moving to take his spot on the bed. 

Riff gave the pair one more confused glance each before making a hasty exit, shutting the door behind him and planning on looking up what the hell that “mini-golf” thing Poppy had mentioned was. And how to roast acorns. 

“W-Wait!” 

Riff looked back to see a pink-faced Barb holding a fuzzy green cape out to him. “Do me a favor first and throw this in the wash, will ya?”

\---

Barb did her best not to blatantly stare at Poppy across the table while she ate her (in Barb’s opinion) under-done cheese pizza. Finding a middle ground for both of them had been a small challenge, given that Poppy was a sugar-addicted vegetarian and Barb was practically a carnivore with a taste for charcoal. But, the royal chefs had made it work with a personal mini-pizza for each of them (all the while trying to use snarls and glowers to scare Poppy away, who was all too eager to help), and now they were sat across from one another in the royal dining hall, chowing away while the storm raged outside. Barb’s personal kitchen was far too messy for her to comfortably bring Poppy in there, so she’d dusted off a couple place settings and seats in her extremely underused and enormous dining room, lit a few candles, and sat them both there at the very end of the long table. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d had a guest stay for dinner; honestly, Barb wasn’t sure how she should conduct herself. She for sure knew that she shouldn’t have been staring for one thing. Poppy was just very eye-catching. Because of all the eye-bleeding pink, obviously. 

The pop queen was too busy tucking into her pizza to notice it seemed, keeping her own gaze lowered and trying to ignore the sounds of Barb chewing her crunchy, burnt pizza and that awful knuckle-cracking nervous habit she had. Don't get her wrong, Poppy definitely wanted to give Barb a good stare. Wasn’t often that Barb dressed the way she did tonight and Poppy found it rather charming (not to mention it made her a bit jealous; she wanted a fun sleepover outfit too). But something wriggling about in her chest kept her eyes on her unusually shaky hands. 

“So, uh…” Barb mumbled through a mouthful, the silence getting to be a bit much for her. “You...wanted to talk about something, you said?”

“Oh! Yeah, uh…” Riff’s advice floated back up into her mind. “I was wondering, um...if  _ you  _ had anything  _ you  _ wanted to talk about!” A smile split her face. 

Barb’s eyebrows sunk down as she squinted. “Um. Not really.” Wait, yes she did. “WELL actually, uh...was kinda wondering what you and Riff were whispering about.” 

Well that didn’t really work. “We were just...talking about Branch.”

Though this was a good gateway into getting more details on Poppy and Branch’s relationship, Barb was still unable to keep her lip from curling in distaste. She spoke to try and disguise it. “Oh. Why’s Riff suddenly interested in  _ him?  _ Got a crush or something?” Ha, imagine  _ that,  _ right?

Poppy seemed taken aback. “I kinda thought you’d know, since you guys are friends, right?”

A short silence and some shifty glances before Barb finally shrugged and stuffed more pizza in her mouth. Poppy nibbled on some crust and started counting the splinters jutting up from the worn table (rather than the handful of dark hairs visible on a small exposed section of Barb’s chest). This wasn’t progressing how she’d like it to...She didn’t want to talk about Branch and Riff. As cute as they’d be, Poppy had come all this way to talk about the two of them, not the boys. 

Lightning flashed and the sweat on Barb’s forehead lit up for that brief moment. Poppy was usually such a chatterbox...the silence made her feel like pins and needles were slowly crawling up the length of her body. What was she thinking in that pretty pink head? Longing to get back to that blue worrywart? Desperate to ask her own questions? Wondering about the p-

“So, about that poem?”

Damnit.

Poppy leaned forward with an eager grin, the energy of a new idea sparking behind her eyes. “Who’s it about?”

Blood rushed to her face immediately. “It’s...um, it’s old. I don’t write that garbage anymore.”

“Uh-huh...Whyyyy was it in your bed then?” The sly grin that came with this made Barb’s ears fold back indignantly. 

“I have trash all over my room, so what if one little scrap ends up in my bed?” 

Poppy definitely wasn’t convinced, but humored Barb. She planted her chin in her hand, plopped that elbow on the table, and leaned into Barb’s space even more as the red haired troll desperately tried to control how hot her face was getting. “Okay, so...who  _ was  _ it about?”

The ugly frown and intense glare Barb gave as her answer was hilarious, but also reminded Poppy not to push too much, lest she lose the guarded rock queen completely. “Hey, no shame in writing. Y’know, Branch is a poet, too. He thinks I don’t know; he totally thinks I’m more of an airhead than I actually am-”

“You sure about that?”

“Hey! Excuse me, miss poem pants? I know that poem is brand new, I’m not dumb.”

Barb just snorted and finished off her food. Poppy did the same, giving Barb a nudge with her foot under the table. She could feel Barb jerk away instantly and snickered, slouching to do it again. 

“Can you not be a freak for two minutes?” Barb snarled, scrunching her body up in her chair at an attempt at escape. 

“Only if you stop being a stick in the mud!” Thunder clapped with Poppy’s words and it almost sounded like a threat. 

Barb, deciding she would not be terrorized in her own home, promptly stood and backed a few steps away from the table. Bounding up from her own spot, Poppy quickly made a move towards the exit, grabbing Barb’s hand as she passed by the flustered rocker. 

“C’mon, I wanna do something fun! Let me do your hair? Teach you a dance? Take your critter bike for a drive?” 

“What, you wanna get us killed?”

“Don’t be dramatic, I think the storm is letting up!” Poppy gestured happily to a window they were passing, the rain and wind beating on it so hard that water was leaking through the (probably worsening) hairline cracks in the glass. Barb groaned.

Alternating between digging her heels into the ground fruitlessly and letting herself be dragged around the fortress by the pink whirlwind, Barb let Poppy wander around and blab, thinking about her next course of action and keeping an eye out for any rock trolls that had wandered in during the storm that might spot the odd pair. Better safe than sorry..Plus, all the talk of Branch was making her extra uneasy. All the trolls in that rainbow-coated village, and she keeps bringing up the most boring one? Hope for the success of Barb’s plan of courting Poppy was dwindling. Fast.

Her spiraling train of thought was thrown off the rails when Poppy stopped short, Barb crashing right into her and sending them both sprawling. Poppy scrambled right up from off of Barb, who looked like she was melting into the floor before getting yanked up to her feet.

“You have a karaoke room??” Poppy gasped, pointing to the dark, dusty, and abandoned looking room. “Why didn’t you say something in the first place?”

“Probably because I don’t wanna do karaoke,” Barb growled, standing in the doorway as Poppy bounded in and took the room with all its decrepit glory in. 

“Stick. In. The mud.” Poppy poked and prodded at the dust-caked music machine until it finally whirred to life, bathing the room in a hot orange light as the selection screen on the opposite wall snapped on. The new glow revealed cracked leather and stained denim couches, plus an array of different instruments that probably hadn’t been touched in years. Poppy didn’t seem bothered, gasping in delight and giving each one a little test. A rusty drum set, several different guitars, an old bass, a keyboard that was missing a few pieces...all were given a few seconds of Poppy’s tiny attention span. Barb, now that her eyes had adjusted to the sudden light, watched Poppy carefully from her leaning position in the doorway. She remembered asking her dad to add this room to the fortress years and years ago, telling him about all the fun parties she’d have with other rock trolls if he did. Barb’s frown deepened a bit. 

“This is  _ perfect!” _ Poppy chittered, skipping back over to the machine, little dusty footprints in the carpet following her. “What song do you wanna sing first?”

“Literally just said I don’t want to-”

“Wow, lots of pop rock on here! Is that your favorite type of rock?” Poppy scrolled through titles quickly, even recognizing a few. “Oh,  _ Total Eclipse of the Heart _ ! Branch-”

“Move over.” Barb sat herself next to Poppy, scrolling right past the song Poppy had mentioned. If anything, maybe this dumb pitstop would help her plan along to get Poppy talking. Branch was coming up  _ way _ too much for her liking and she was starting to grow desperate for some black-and-white information. 

Poppy paid no mind to the rude behavior and watched the titles scroll by on the screen. “Oh, I like  _ Ballroom Blitz _ ! Great to get a party going, y’know?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

They scrolled together a bit more in silence, none of the songs really grabbing either of them. Part of Barb was hoping that Poppy would lose interest and jump onto a different topic or activity, but that hope was squashed when she shoved Barb’s hand away with an elated gasp.

“Oh, I  _ love  _ that song! Sing it, sing it!”

Barb followed Poppy’s finger with dread.  _ I Want You (She’s So Heavy).  _ “You’re joking.”

“C’mon, put a  _ real  _ rock twist to it!” Poppy whipped her hair over to a guitar that looked the least likely to fall apart and brought it right over, plopping it in Barb’s arms. “I wanna hear you sing! I haven’t since your tour!”

“That’s bull.”

“Well, not an actual song…! Please, Barb?” Poppy pulled her best puppy eyes, leaning forward into Barb’s face and resting her hands on her fellow queen’s leg. “It would sound so cool in your voice…”

The closer Poppy got, the more Barb’s eyes widened. She wasn’t getting out of this, was she? A long, low groan as Barb flopped her head back and pressed the  _ START SONG  _ button, Poppy springing away with a squeal of glee. She somehow manifested a beat-up cowbell from her hair, twirling them both in her hands while she watched Barb hastily give the guitar in her lap a quick tune.

“Should I go grab Riff to play dr-”

“No.” That was a little too quick. “He, uh. It’s his day off.”

Before Poppy could start about how that made no sense to her (wouldn’t any troll enjoy a jam sesh with their friends on their day off?), a swirl of scratchy notes started from the tired strings of Barb’s guitar to pair with the beginning of the song. Poppy shivered with excitement and started singing the background vocals, watching Barb intently. The rock queen, face flushed and shoulders way too tense, paused her playing in time with the song to use her foot to flip the tipped-over mic stand up into her waiting hand. 

_ “I want you…”  _ This was really happening, huh?  _ “I want you so ba-a-ad, babe…” _

Poppy bashed her cowbell in time with the heavy riffs of the song, looking practically deranged over how much she was loving the unexpected performance from Barb. Nervous or not, she obviously knew how to put on a show. 

And nervous she was.  _ “I want yo-o-u-u-u...I want you so ba-a-ad, it’s drivin’ me mad, it’s drivin’ me mad…”  _ She kept her eyes either closed or on the bright words on the screen slipping by, feeling like she’d combust if she got even one look at Poppy while singing a song like this. She could definitely feel the pink troll’s eyes following her every move regardless; every heavy step, every strum, every twist of her neck and hips. It was (though she’d never outwardly admit it) all for Poppy.

_ “I want you,”  _ she sang, adding more gravel to her voice as her nose brushed against the mic, eyes squeezed shut.  _ “I want you so ba-a-ad, babe…I want yo-o-u-u-u...I want you so ba-a-ad, it’s drivin’ me mad, it’s drivin’ me-”  _ She was cut off by Poppy leaping right in front of her, banging that cowbell and watching Barb’s fingers slide around the neck of the guitar. 

Finally meeting eyes with Poppy felt like Barb had been injected with a volatile cocktail of adrenaline, buzzing energy, and...some other third thing. They circled each other for a bit, Barb’s face splitting with a crooked smile. This was the point, wasn’t it? She was kinda trying to woo Poppy, wasn’t she? Better get to it. 

_“I want you!”_ She grabbed the mic stand and swung it forward, cradling it like a dance partner, letting her guitar hang around her shoulders with her body facing Poppy as they moved about the room in time with the song. _“I want you so ba-a-ad, babe…! I want yo-o-o-o-u-u-u…! I want you so ba-a-ad, it’s drivin’ me mad, it’s drivin’ me mad!”_

Was she getting the point across? Barb could really only hope with how difficult Poppy could be to read. Always excitable, always hyped, always with those fuschia eyes half-lidded and mouth turned up into an overbite-y grin. God. She was so cute. A leap in her chest from her pounding heart made her aware of how flushed she was feeling in the face. From singing, maybe? Probably not. It wasn’t particularly hard rock to blush in front of a woman like a fool, so Barb attempted to get the message across that she was just overheating by undoing a couple more buttons on her shirt. Well, undoing was putting it lightly- they were roughly ripped away with one sloppy jerk of the fabric, even untucking one side of the vest. Through all that cowbell-clanging and fluid dancing, Barb couldn’t quite tell if Poppy was reacting to that or just going pink in the face through exertion. She’d have to push further. Yeesh, wooing was a lot of damn work.

Putting those rock-vocals to work, Barb let loose onto the mic:  _ “I want YOU!”  _ Kind of a repetitive song, but...it was appropriate.  _ “I want you so BA-A-AD, BABE…! I want yo-o-o-o-u-u-u…! I want you so ba-a-ad, it’s drivin’ me mad, it’s drivin’ me-”  _ Barb switched her grip back to her guitar, shredding into it, tongue hanging out in a signature rocker sneer as she kept her and Poppy’s gazes locked. 

Poppy was light on her feet, unconsciously shrinking the space between her and Barb as they circled about the room together, kicking up dust and most certainly making a racket. It was a good thing that it was such a large room; Poppy was pretty much entranced by Barb’s performance, unable and unwilling to pull her eyes away from the rock queen for even a moment to make sure her footing was steady. This felt electric. She’d never seen Barb this animated, this alive...this irresistible. 

_ “SHE’S SO-!”  _ Poppy sang with Barb, unable to hold back the surge of those familiar-but-unfamiliar feelings. 

Both trolls slammed onto their instruments as the chorus dropped, harmonizing together, riding the rolling rhythm. 

_ “Heavy…”  _ They went back and forth singing that word (as the karaoke machine called for), pitches climbing each time they swung it back and forth between them. 

An instrumental break was called for in the song, and both trolls took it as a recollective moment as they played away. They mirrored each other in a way: Sweat beading on brows, huffs of breath pushed out of slightly open mouths in time with the beat, tunnel vision on each other through half-lidded eyes, and mussy hair from moving to the jagged and frantic tune. Not to mention the blotchy pink staining their cheeks. To any outsider, it was fairly obvious what was going on between the two, but the barrier of doubt and unclarity was blinding to them. Barb really was doing her best, body practically vibrating with the effort she was putting into her show for Poppy and brain sloshing in her skull with all the reading she was trying to do of every last twitch of Poppy’s muscles. All the depressed lounging and lack of concerts was catching up to her. She was somewhat exhausting herself to be honest, but the drive to win Poppy back was stronger than her need to rest. Lame or not, she was kinda desperate. She wanted Poppy. She  _ needed  _ Poppy. 

Even with how blatant the song and Barb’s body language was, Poppy still had a lump of uncertainty in her throat. Barb tended to sing songs about want and struggle...her world tour was definitely evidence of that. Plus, Barb didn’t even pick the song. Poppy did. Maybe it was more of a reflection of her own feelings? Was that really what this all was this whole time? Did she truly feel this way about Barb? It was still so much to work through...but the best way she knew how to go about that kind of situation was, of course, through song. 

_ “She’s SO-!”  _ More tension-filled harmonizing followed.  _ “...Heavy…”  _

Ripping through the lyrics with razor-filled, gravely shouts, Barb found herself practically pleading with Poppy through the song.  _ “I want you...I want you so ba-a-ad…I want yo-o-u-u-u...I want you so ba-a-ad, it’s drivin’ me mad, it’s drivin’ me mad…! I want YOU!”  _ It was a miracle the guitar strings weren’t snapping under the force of Barb’s violent strumming and fast fingerwork.  _ “I want you so BA-A-AD, I want yo-o-o-o-u-u-u…! I want you SO ba-a-ad, it’s drivin’ me mad, it’s drivin’ me…”  _ She sucked in a full breath and pulled the mic in to go full out on her knees, head dipped back and mouth open in a roar.  _ “MAAAAAAAAAAAADDD…”  _ The music paused and she snapped her head back down to face an oddly frozen-looking Poppy, eyes blazing and teeth bared.  _ “She’s SO-” _

_ “Heavy…”  _ Poppy sang, stepping closer to sing the word repeatedly as backup while Barb belted the more free-form, emotion-filled lyrics running across the screen. With how intense Barb’s expressions were, Poppy once again was hit with an unsupressable fluttering in her chest as she wondered if this really was just a karaoke song they were singing. 

_ “Oohh, darling, oh believe me, in the end...the love you take, is equal to the lo-o-ove you ma-a-a-ake…”  _ Was she really singing this? God, she sure was.  _ “Yeeea-a-a-aahh…! Oh, darling, in the end...in the end, the love, you make, is equal to the love you taaaake…! Yeah, oh...Oh darlin’...”  _ It was almost difficult to keep tears back, the emotion building in Barb through the song causing her throat to tighten, forcing the words out in an even more raspy tone.  _ “Oh, believe me...in the end, the love you take, is equal to the LOVE you MAAAAA-A-A-AAAKE…”  _

Through the entire barrage, Poppy unconsciously leaned in further and further, not quite so they were nearly brushing noses, moreso that Poppy’s face was steadily on course to tuck itself into Barb’s trembling shoulder. Stunned. She could really only feel stunned. 

_ “Ohhh...Baby, in the end...the love you take, is equal to the love you make...Ohh...Yeah in the end! The love! You make! Is equal to the love you take, the love you take...Yeaaah…! In the end, the love you take, is equal to the looove you make...oh, please believe me...OH, DARLINGGGG...Oh, in the eeeend, the looove you taaaake...is equal to...in the end, the love you take-”  _ So lost in the lyrics tumbling from her mouth in a tidal wave, Barb hadn’t even noticed Poppy’s cheek brushing against her own, or the small pink hand resting on her hip.  _ “IS EQUAL TO THE LOOOVE YOU MAAAAAAAAA-A-A-AAAAKE…”  _

And with a few last notes rattling through the old machine, the song ended and the room was bathed in the red light of the FINISHED screen. Dust swirled and floated around them gently, pushed about by their heavy breathing. Barb blinked a few times in rapid succession as she settled back down, suddenly aware of how close she and Poppy had gotten...and the soft touches she was receiving. She gulped and tensed her form, but forced herself not to jump back.  _ Accept it. _ Her still slightly misty eyes drifted over to look at Poppy, who seemed a bit distant mentally. Was it too much? Did she blow Poppy’s ears out and rattle her sugary little brain in her skull with all the screaming? Maybe Poppy was uncomfortable with the lyrics. Maybe-

“Wow, Barb!” Poppy suddenly cheered, closing whatever gaps between them remained as she squashed Barb against her in a hug. “That was so awesome! You were so...gosh, I…” Was she...speechless? “You were just-!” Poppy drew back, fingers wrapped around Barb’s shoulders and mouth pulled into an awe-filled smile.  _ “Wild.” _

Seemed that speechlessness was contagious. Barb just barely managed a sheepish smile and a little nod, eyes sliding around to look anywhere but at Poppy. After a moment or two, Poppy seemed to get a bit nervous herself, releasing Barb and fidgeting with her bangs a bit. 

“So, uh...My turn!” She hopped over to the machine more and started scrolling through, not noticing Barb’s exhausted slouch forward.

“Uh, Popstar, it’s getting kinda late…” Thunder boomed outside, now audible even through the thick fortress walls with the music no longer blasting. 

Happily ignoring Barb (she was  _ working  _ on listening better, things don’t happen overnight), Poppy quickly found a song that she was at least somewhat familiar with, heat rising up her neck to her cheeks as she pressed play. They once again were washed in an orange light, Poppy bouncing up and doing air guitar as the heavy strums blasted through the speakers. The tune was all too familiar to Barb. A rush of both familiar troll music-instinct and boiling feelings towards Poppy snapped her right out of her slothy state. 

_ “Wild thing!”  _ Poppy sang, jabbing her finger in Barb’s direction and moving her hips to the strong beat.  _ “You make my heart sing!”  _ She goofily pounded her chest with her fist, still unsure even with herself about what really was at play here. Regardless, Poppy moved herself forward, spinning before snatching Barb’s hand up, pulling her in to dance along with Poppy.  _ “You make everything groovy...Wild thing!”  _

Suddenly, something possessed Poppy to pull Barb in, bringing them chest to chest and nose to nose. Their expressions contrasted each other almost humorously with Barb’s ears shooting straight up and eyes almost forming perfect circles, while Poppy’s ears and eyelids drooped and the corners of her mouth slid upwards slyly. 

_ “Wild thing, I…”  _ For the first time in many,  _ many  _ years, Poppy forgot the lyrics for a split second, overwhelmed by...Barb. Just Barb. And she couldn’t be moved to glance back at the screen and remind herself. A heavy guitar strum from the machine made her refocus for just a moment.  _ “I...I think I…” _

Barb was sure Poppy could feel her heart hammering against both their chests. What should she do? Make a move?  _ What move?  _

Luckily, Poppy was there to make the move. Wrapping an arm around Barb’s waist, she pulled her in closer, tilting her head to the side and intertwining her fingers with Barb’s-

Then, the music stopped short and the lights snapped off, plunging them in darkness and assaulting their ears with a shattering clap of thunder. Poppy jumped with a shriek and Barb stumbled back in shock. 

“O-Oh, uh...power’s out.” Barb mumbled once the thunder had rolled off into silence once more. 

“Gosh,” Poppy laughed, jitters evident in her voice, “...that scared me!” They stood in awkward muteness for a moment before Poppy piped up once more. “...So, I can’t see anything at all.”

Right. Pop troll eyesight sucked. “Um...here.” Barb took Poppy’s hand without much grace, leading them both out of the room and back towards her private quarters. “Like I said, it’s late. Might as well hit the sack. Can’t do much in the dark if you’re blind.”

Too dizzy with her scattered thoughts, Poppy just followed Barb without protest. Lightning flashed outside the windows occasionally as they moved along, Barb hunched to stare at the ground and Poppy’s head tilted back towards the raging sky. 

\---

Poppy watched Barb from her seat on the lumpy mattress as she carefully lit the last bunch of candles on the floor. The warm orange light highlighted the rock troll’s angular features as she knelt next to them and Poppy carefully studied each shadow and highlight. All the details of Barb were unexpectedly jumping out of Poppy in the low light; the coarse purple-pink fuzz on her body with sprinkles of dark hair mixed in, scars and dark freckles, the ombre of her hair and the wireyness of her muscles. Such a funny troll. 

“There.” Barb tossed the lit match to the floor and dragged her foot across it, firmly snuffing it. 

“Thanks.” Poppy offered a smile as Barb moved to stand by the bed. “Uh...you got any pajamas I can borrow, Barbeque?”

The nickname made Barb’s nose wrinkle in both disgust and amusement. “Sure. Just a sec.”

Poppy stared some more as Barb walked over to her closet and started rummaging around. The lack of grouch from Barb almost put Poppy on edge in an intrigued sort of fashion. Maybe the uptight queen was finally relaxing a bit in Poppy’s presence. Could this be a good time to get to that “deep talk” Poppy had been hoping for? Maybe get some answers about the coronation confusion? She’d have to be careful. 

A small hole in Barb’s blanket was teased larger by Poppy’s fingers. She licked her lips, eyes shifting back and forth between her own lap and Barb’s broad back. That love poem suddenly resurfaced in the pool of her thoughts. A decent start. 

“Hey.”

Barb grunted, turning to look at Poppy out of the corner of her eye while looking for some spare sweatpants. 

“You ever dated anyone, Barb?” 

The sifting through clothes stopped abruptly for a moment, leading into a few seconds of silence until Barb finally forced out an answer. “...no.”

Poppy was shocked. “What? Seriously?” She could hear Barb start to grumble. “N-Not that that’s a bad thing, I’m just, y’know. Surprised!” The blanket hole was tugged at more as Barb turned half way towards Poppy. “You’d think the queen of rock would be a chick magnet!”

A twitch of her ear and lowered eyebrows was the only response Poppy got before Barb tossed her a wrinkled black v-neck and dark purple shorts. Time to shut up about this. 

As both trolls changed into their sleepwear, Barb surprised Poppy by hitting her with her own question: “Uh...have you ever dated anyone?”

Poppy hummed in a “kinda-sorta” tone as she pulled the short over her head. “Nothing super serious.”

“What about Branch?” It slipped out before Barb could bite her tongue; she cringed at the pause that followed and was thankful that her back was to Poppy.

“What about him?” The words were chuckled out and laced with puzzlement. 

Barb gave an overcompensating shrug as she untucked her barely-there black tank top from her red sweatpants. “Uh...um. H-Has he ever been in a relationship?” Nice save. 

“Oh!  _ Pshh-”  _ Poppy waved a hand and swung her legs up under herself. “No way. Dude’s still coming out of his shell big time.” 

Practically vibrating with excitement, Barb stiffly walked over to sit on the bed next to Poppy. “Figures,” she scoffed. 

“He was kinda living in a hole in the ground for, like, twenty-something years.” Poppy flopped back on the bed, very unsatisfied with its minimal cushiness. “What’s your excuse?” 

Kinda walked right into that one. “...Busy being queen.”

Poppy nodded in understanding, then drummed a little beat on her belly as she worked up the courage to ask her next question. “...About you being queen…”

The mattress squeaked (most likely not used to having more than one occupant) as Barb laid down on Poppy’s right, eyebrow raised. Lots of weird questions tonight. Weird night in general. That almost-kiss they almost had in the karaoke room was mega weird...if that was even what that was. Barb couldn’t tell. Could be a weird pop troll hug for all she knew.

Thunder boomed outside once more and Debbie chittered above the pair. 

“...Barb, you said no one came to your coronation, right?”

A quick nod.

“So, uh...I kinda heard something different…”

“From who?” 

Judging by the growl in Barb’s voice, Poppy decided it would be better not to throw Riff under the bus. “I heard that trolls  _ did  _ come to your coronation.”

A long, silent, challenging stare. Poppy did not back down, knowing she had Barb cornered. 

“You know you can trust me, right? You don’t have to lie-” Barb’s frown deepened and her eyes narrowed. She was, as Poppy feared, clamming up. “Look, Barb...you don’t  _ have  _ to tell me, I’m just...curious! A-And I can keep it a secret if you want me to! I just really-”

“If I tell you, will you never bring it up again?”

That was much easier than Poppy expected. She zipped her lip and nodded vigorously, prompting a sigh from Barb. The rock troll was swimming in mixed emotions, weighing the odds of the turnout of spilling these nasty beans. Sure, gaining more of Poppy’s trust sounded nice, but...would the truth turn her away? Come back to bite Barb in the near future?

“No take-backsies.” Poppy insisted firmly, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up.

A powerful argument. Better judgement, eat your heart out. “Fine, fine…” Barb faced her craggy ceiling and took a deep breath, already starting to regret several previous conversations. “...so, yeah, the coronation had a big turnout. Whole kingdom showed up. It was a riot.”

Poppy grinned and nodded encouragingly, barely able to contain her eager wiggles. 

“...Like, literally, trolls were rioting.”

Oh. The wiggles ceased. Barb’s eyes slid shut and her whole body seemed to radiate stress.

“...Basically, my dad...he wasn’t doing well. He was starting to have trouble walking and thinking and all that. So when he announced I was being crowned that day, the whole kingdom just went to hell. It was intense...even for rock trolls.” A slow, deep breath. “I didn’t want to be queen. I didn’t want to go in front of them all, hear how much they hated my guts for replacing my dad. They all already didn’t like me much. I knew it was gonna be bad.”

Poppy rolled onto her side to give Barb her full attention. “...what happened?”

Barb pursed her lips and crossed her arms protectively. “I was in my backstage dressing room, getting my ceremonial makeup ready. Y’know, red stripes, white dots, extra black around the eyes.” Poppy nodded, though the ritual didn’t really make much sense to her. “My dad was there with me, along with some stagehands getting stuff together and getting me ready. It’s tradition to give a concert once you’ve been crowned. A big one, like the one I did during my tour.” 

Barb couldn’t hold off the shudder that went through her. Noticing her fellow queen’s distress, Poppy laid a comforting hand in the cook of Barb’s elbow, brushing her thumb against the prickly fuzz on her skin. Barb almost marveled at how velvety Poppy’s felt in comparison. Not the time.

“...he went to go check on my royal jacket that was being finished up by his seamstress and get the ceremonial clippers. He was feeling good that day, a-and he looked it, too. Had good strength, a way more clear mind...it made me happy to see him that way, but...just also made it way harder to take his place.” This was all a lot more trying to talk about than Barb had anticipated. Difficult, but...it felt weirdly good. But also bad. “When he left the room...I didn’t notice it was quiet all of a sudden. Too focused on...everything else, I guess. All the pressure, what songs I was gonna sing, trying to not barf all over my mirror. So I really wasn’t ready when my two makeup artists just. Grabbed my arms.”

Poppy’s eyes widened. This wasn’t quite the story she was expecting. 

A strained chuckle left Barb as she turned her head slightly to look at Poppy. “H-Hey, remember when you also asked what happened to my ear?” Poppy was almost too horrified to nod the tiniest nod. “Well. Um. They grabbed me, and the other stagehands dogpiled. They were just as pissed as the crowd outside, turns out. They’d just been playing nice while my dad was around, ‘cause they knew he’d end them if they laid a hand on me.” Her voice started to waiver in a very not-punk way. “So, once he was gone, they just. Walloped me. There were like five or six of them, big trolls, and I-” She had to pause to swallow, feeling her dinner rise in her throat. “I-I don’t know who, but one of them just. Ripped into my face.”

The scars along Barb’s left brow and the side of her head were hastily traced with a finger, followed by Poppy’s wide eyes. “Oh, Barb…”

“Then they. Y’know.” A weak gesture to her scarred ear. “Bit off a chunk of my ear.” She could barely force the words out, but was grateful that they wouldn’t have to come sliding off her tongue again now that it was done. “It was bloody and nasty and...I started  _ really  _ screaming for my dad then. They weren’t just out for a brawl. Thank rock he heard me, somehow.”

“...What’d he do?” Poppy whispered. 

“Tore them a new one,” Barb scoffed. “I’d never seen him that angry. He threw them around the room like ragdolls, took every punch and kick and gave it right back to them...To be honest, I don’t remember much of it. I was kinda in shock?” 

“Well,  _ yeah,”  _ Poppy said, pulling herself closer to Barb and nuzzling her face into her shoulder (to both comfort Barb and herself). “That’s really scary, Barb.”

“S-Sorry, I-”

“No, don’t be! It wasn’t your fault, and it’s good to let it out. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

Though Poppy cuddling up to her made her stomach twist into even more knots, Barb continued, all of it just tumbling out of her at that point. “Well, once he was done thrashing them, he scooped me up and patched me up as best as he could. I was blubbering and begging him to not make me queen...I didn’t want to go out in front of that mob, y’know? And he...after fighting off that one group, he already looked exhausted...it was just a lot.” The memory of seeing her dear ol’ dad like that almost made the tears brimming in her eyes fall. “But he insisted. He wrapped up my ear, bandaged my face up best he could, wiped up my tears and got me into my royal jacket. Just a quick fix for the concert. And we went out on stage like that.”

Poppy wrapped her other hand around Barb’s arm and pulled herself even closer in, eyes flicking between Barb’s weary features and her bitten ear. “Then what happened?”

Involuntarily, Barb leaned into Poppy just a hair. “My dad was in a rage. Shut that crowd up good when he addressed them. He was screaming into the mic, telling them to shut up and respect their new queen, by order of their king. That was that.” She chewed her lip a bit as her mind chugged over the rather repressed memories. “I was just kinda frozen there. Numb? Even when he buzzed my hair into my mohawk-”

“It wasn’t before?”

“Huh?” Barb did a double take at the question, train of thought sidetracked.

“Your hair?” Probably a silly question to interrupt with, but Poppy wasn’t great at picking up on that sort of thing.

“Oh, no. Only rock royalty can have mohawks, like, high-up royalty. The mohawk is our crown.” She reached over and poked at Poppy’s leafy crown. “We don’t do this kinda thing.”

“Oh, gotcha, gotcha.”

“Anyway.” Another husky throat clear. “He gave me my mohawk, declared me Barb, Queen of Rock, and performed my concert with me.” That memory did manage to bring a smile to her face. “He’s such a great dad. He was a really awesome king.” Her face darkened again. “After my coronation, he really went downhill with his health. He was in a wheelchair not long after. I think the stress of it all really tore him down; but things did calm down in the kingdom eventually, especially with people hearing about him tearing the trolls who attacked me apart and all that. It was just. Gnarly.” Her ears drooped. “Not what I imagined it to be.”

She finished with a shrug, looking down at a very wide-eyed Poppy. Probably a lot more than she was expecting to hear. 

“Are you okay?” They both said simultaneously, prompting nervous chuckles from both. 

“I’m fine, I’m…” Poppy let out a whoosh of a breath. “I’m sorry you went through that. That’s a lot for any queen to deal with...especially when you were as young as you said.”

Another shrug. “Yeah, well, that’s how life goes. Taught me to be harder. Not let my guard down so much.”

Poppy nodded, remembering what Riff had told her about Barb before she was crowned. 

_ Even more angry, if you can believe it, but like...she tried to be friendlier? _

“Do you think…” Poppy stopped herself, thinking that that question might be a little too much. “...uh...I-I forgot what I was gonna say.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“...different question, though.”

“Shoot.”

Poppy tentatively reached up to pet Barb’s buzzcut, her thumb smoothing over the soft scar that ran through it like a pink river. “...why do you think...they were so quick to judge you? Why did they think you wouldn’t be a good queen, you think?”

A heavy ache settled in Barb’s chest, pulling her frown down even further as she did her best not to just break down right there. How much sharing was too much? This was a lot for her already, given that just having pink in her cheeks around Poppy made her feel too soft. Could she really admit to Poppy that just the suspicion that she wasn’t a full hard rock troll was enough to cause that much destruction? The rest of her kingdom didn’t even have to know for sure that she was a pop rock troll to decide that they wanted her gone for good. If she mentioned that, she’d sure she’d have to lay it all out...tell a secret she’d guarded for so many years for, really, her own safety. Trust was something she had in Poppy, sure, but...there was only so much one queen could take in a night. 

So, she shrugged and uttered simply, “No clue.”

Thankfully, Poppy seemed to accept this (for the time being), just giving a small nod and continuing to try and soothe Barb. Barb did her best to calm herself during the silence that followed, Poppy’s gentle strokes over her arm and scars helping but also causing a stir in her chest. This was a lot. Physically, Barb was still fairly tense, but emotionally...yeesh. A long yawn escaped her, quickly spreading to Poppy, who had still been fairly awake. Several things were crossing her mind like scattered tracks in mud that she was desperately trying to follow to some kind of end goal. She couldn’t imagine what that kind of thing would do to a troll...Her own people turning on her on what was supposed to be an exciting day filled with celebration and support. For what? And to be left with a scar to remind her of that every day...Poppy was nearly in tears herself. All those trust issues, the erratic behavior, the lack of feeling like she had any connection...the angry front Barb kept on almost constantly. It all made much more sense now. Finally, she’d begun to crack Barb open; and Poppy could already feel her own heart spilling out into her. 

“You’re a good queen, Barb.”

“Aw, jeez, Popsqueak…” Barb groaned, squirming a bit in Poppy’s grasp. “Don’t get all sugary-mushy on me now…”

“You can let it out! Let it all out Barb, I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.” Poppy smiled and wrapped herself around Barb tighter, even pulling a leg up and around her waist. 

“I’ve let out plenty,” Barb choked, heat instantly rushing to her face. 

“And didn’t it feel good?”

Though Barb wasn’t about to admit it out loud to that smug little pink face, yes, it did feel good. Poppy accepted the silence after a few moments and settled into her cozy position against Barb, closing her eyes and letting the storm outside gradually lull her to sleep. Barb wasn’t too far behind her, smokey eyelids drooping steadily as she counted Poppy’s deep, steady breaths. Once she was sure Poppy was asleep, Barb gently tucked her arm around Poppy’s shoulders, pulling her just a bit closer. Relief flooded her when Poppy nestled in. They were cuddling...Had Barb not been so drained, she might’ve had a mild freak out. Instead, she just enjoyed Poppy’s warm embrace and drifted off to sleep with ease; the first time she had done so in many months. 

—-

Poppy stirred with a start, whatever dream she’d been having dissolving as her eyes peeked open. Something loud had woken her up in the middle of the night...more thunder? Was the storm really still going that h-

A long, bearish snore from Barb answered her question. Good lord. 

Poppy lifted her head slightly off of Barb’s fuzzy chest, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to adjust them to the darkness. The storm had ended and pale, cool moonlight was streaming in through the cracked window glass and over the pair of them. Some soft candlelight was still present, but most had snuffed themselves out after burning for several hours. Fresh rain smell and traces of candle smoke soaked the damp air and brought a smile to Poppy’s face. This was so nice. She turned her head slowly to look at Barb, careful to not wake her. The softness of her sleeping expression melted Poppy’s heart. So tranquil. She was almost unrecognizable without that deep scowl she had most of the time. A small pink hand reached up to stroke some of the dark fuzz on Barb’s jaw. Prickly...Another snore prompted Poppy to gingerly push Barb’s open mouth shut. The slumbering troll licked her lips and stretched a bit in her sleep, worrying Poppy that she might’ve woken Barb up. But she settled right back down, turning over to face Poppy and pulling her closer to her body. Poppy happily curled up to fit against Barb’s form, tangling their legs together and draping an arm around Barb’s neck. It felt nice to be held by Barb...the weight of her arms around her waist was comforting, as was the warmth radiating from her whole body. Maybe all rock trolls were little furnaces like this? Poppy loved it. She was so cozy. This felt right. 

With sleepy grog jellying her thoughts, Poppy somewhat failed to realize that something had clicked. That weird, unexplained feeling she’d been experiencing finally made sense for a fleeting moment: she’d wanted this all along. She’d wanted this when she and Barb saved music together, when they’d had their first sleepover, when Barb left in such a rush from her apology party, when Poppy had almost kissed her in the karaoke room...this was what she’d been missing. A tenderness that, before, in the day, had been sealed away by an invisible barrier for both queens. Now, in the night, no one was there to judge. They were different, yes. But that just made them perfect for each other. 

And just like that, the moment of certainty slipped back into Poppy’s unconsciousness, and she rejoined Barb in sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas....I hope that was worth the wait LOL I think the next chapter might be the last! I will get it out to you all ASAP, definitely faster than this one came out. 
> 
> tysm so much for reading, sharing, commenting, and leaving kudos!! have a rad one!! (:

**Author's Note:**

> :)!! i will be updating asap! comments/kudos make me smile <3


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